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YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 





\ 



A Walk in Andalusia. A Tapestry in the Escorial Pa^e 21 J 


Young People in Old Places 


By 

CORNELIA BAKER 

Author of ^ 

The Queen’s Page, The Court Jester, etc. 


With pen-and-ink pictures by 

FRANKLIN BOOTH 

and full page sketches in pencil 



INDIANAPOLIS 

THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright 1906 
The Bobbs-Merrill Company 


September 



LIBRARY tf CONGRESS 
Two Copios Received 
SEP 13 

Entry 

•ussr cx. xxc., wt. 

/s^ 3 

CORY B. 



PRESS OF 

BRAUNWORTH & CO. 
BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS 
BROOKLYN, N. Y. 


DEDICATED WITH LOVE 
TO “CHIQUITA,” THE GREATEST 
GLOBE-TROTTER OF MY 
ACQUAINTANCE 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 

I 

Grandma Is Persuaded to Go 

I 

II 

On the Atlantic 

12 

III 

An Addition to the Party 

21 

IV 

Seeing the Sights of London 

32 

V 

Gerry Is Lost 

48 

VI 

Dining with the Nobility 

57 

VII 

In Which the Tower Is Visited 

73 

VIII 

Learning the Names of the British Sovereigns 

87 

IX 

Shakespeare’s Fairy Story 

102 

X 

The Magic Juice 

113 

XI 

Off for Fair France 

127 

XII 

Seeing the Gay Capital 

137 

XIII 

The Trouble About Grandma’s Paris Gown 

« 5 i 

XIV 

Where Kings and Queens Have Lived 

163 

XV 

A Strange Purchase 

176 

XVI 

In Burgos and Madrid 

190 

XVII 

The Eighth Wonder of the World 

210 

XVIII 

Jack and the Box 

222 

XIX 

In Fair Seville 

236 

XX 

On the Wing 

245 

XXI 

An Old Town and a New Acquaintance 

255 

XXII 

In Gibraltar and Morocco 

268 

XXIII 

Beautiful Granada 

282 

XXIV 

A Mystery Solved 

295 

XXV 

A Happy Ending 

3 ” 




YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 




YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


CHAPTER I 
GRANDMA IS PERSUADED TO GO 

Jack and Gerry — the latter was christened Ger- 
aldine — never will forget the intense excitement 
they experienced when the letter came. It was ad- 
dressed to Jack as being the older, but Gerry felt 
that it belonged to her as much as to her brother. 
To begin with, the stamp was an odd one; it was 
not of that bright pink tint provided by Uncle Sam 
for those who write letters in his realm, but was of 
a salmon hue with two tiny women clasping hands 
across what Jack declared was a tombstone, but 
which Gerry maintained was a wedding-cake. 
“Republique Frangaise” was printed at the bottom 
with “25” in very black figures, which led the chil- 
dren to believe that it had cost the sender twenty- 
five cents. 

Though the stamp was new to them the inside of 
the letter was still more fascinating, for it was from 
their father’s sister. Miss Eleanor Craile, who had 
written to say that they were to join her in Europe, 
where she expected to remain for more than a year. 
They were to accompany Mr. Compton, the fam- 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


ily lawyer, who intended to sail within two weeks 
and had kindly agreed to conduct the children in 
safety to their aunt. 

Jack and Geraldine Craile had been orphans for 
two years and had been left in the care of their 
Aunt Eleanor, a lady who, although fond of her 
nephew and niece in a way, was not extravagantly 



When the letter came 


pleased with the society of children. She had not 
wished to postpone a long-planned trip abroad on 
their account and, not caring to take them along, 
had the year before sent Jack and Gerry to the 
country to live with Grandma Honeythorn, who 
was their mother’s mother. She never had written 
to them until now, but she had written to others re- 
garding them and they were well cared for. The 
children knew that there was a lot of money piled 


GRANDMA IS PERSUADED TO GO 


up somewhere for them, for they had everything 
they needed if not all that they wanted. Their 
clothes were sent to them from a large establish- 
ment in the city, and on Christmas and birthdays 
toys and books came in the same way. No, Aunt 
Eleanor never forgot them, and now her conscience 
had given her a severe jog regarding the charges 
left her by her brother, and not being able to tear 
herself away from the charms of the old country 
she had made up her mind to send for the children. 

Although almost delirious with joy at the pros- 
pect of crossing the ocean Jack and Gerry felt one 
deep regret in going away. They did not want to 
part with dear old Grandma, who tucked them in 
bed every night and who, when they were ill, knew 
just what to do for them. Grandma had lived in 
the country all her life and, although she was 
nearly seventy, she was as merry as a young girl. 
But she was very sad at the thought of saying good- 
by to the children. 

“I know that Eleanor’ll keep you over there for 
several years,” said she. “She’s that much in love 
with foreign countries that goodness only knows 
when she will come back.” 

“Never mind, dear honey Grandma,” said 
Gerry affectionately, “we’ll write to you every 
week and we’ll send you all sorts of queer things. 
We’ll send you a music box from Switzerland and, 
if you would like it, a bottle of water from the 
Mediterranean Sea, and all kinds of presents.” 

3 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


The great dry-goods house which provided for 
so many of their wants sent the children steamer 
trunks, steamer rugs, caps to wear on deck, where it 
usually is cold and windy, and all the clothing they 
could possibly need. 

But events do not always happen just as we ex- 
pect. Two days before they were to start to New 
York Grandma had a letter from Mr. Compton, in 
which he said that business of his own had taken an 
unexpected turn which would prevent his going 
abroad for some time, and that as he knew of no 
one who was going to Europe whom he could ask 
to be burdened with the care of two children he 
was afraid that their trip must be indefinitely post- 
poned. 

This news was the wettest kind of a wet blanket. 
It completely extinguished their joy and made 
Gerry cry and Jack feel very much like it, though 
a boy, of course, does not snivel like a girl. On the 
day their ship sailed they took a mournful pleasure 
in saying, “Now we should have been just moving 
off,” and “Now we should have been out of sight of 
land.” 

“I don’t see,” said Gerry, “why we can’t find 
somebody to take us over. We are not babies ; you 
are twelve and I am ten and our ages added to- 
gether make twenty-two, which is quite old. We 
would not be the least trouble to anybody, if some- 
body would only try us.” 

“I have just thought of a plan,” cried Jack, danc- 

4 


GRANDMA IS PERSUADED TO GO 


ing about with delight at the very thought of it. 
“We can get Grandma to take us.” 

“Oh, wouldn’t that be lovely?” cried his sister. 
“But I am afraid she wouldn’t go, for she would 
not want to leave the farm.” 

“Oh, Johnson can take care of the farm and it is 
time that Grandma was taking a trip somewhere 
if she ever intends to. Let’s go and ask her.” 

Mrs. Honeythorn was sitting by the dining-room 
window, mending a torn ruffle on her granddaugh- 
ter’s gown, and she wore a placid smile, for she al- 
ways seemed to be happy when she was occupied. 

“Grandma,” cried Jack breathlessly, “we have 
been talking it over and we want you to take us to 
Europe.” 

“Fiddle-dee-dee!” said the old lady, looking at 
him over the tops of her glasses. “That’s a new 
kind of a bee you’ve got in your bonnet, Jacky.” 

“No, Grandma, we are in sober earnest, both of 
us,” said Gerry seriously. “Aunt Eleanor wants us 
to go to her and there is no one to take us but you. 
It will do you all the good in the world. Grandma; 
it will be good for your health and your educa- 
tion.” 

Their grandmother laughed. “I’m a little mite 
old to be thinkin’ about my education,” said she. 

“No, Grandma, you are not a bit too old,” re- 
plied J ack. “Why, you read from a paper the other 
day that Queen Victoria learned a language when 
she was seventy, and you are not that yet.” 
s 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“But ’most that, Jacky. I’ll be seventy on my 
next birthday. And that’s too long a trip for a 
woman of my age.” 

“But, Grandma,” insisted the boy, “I heard 
Johnson tell Doctor Myrick only yesterday that 
you are as sharp as tacks — that is the very way he 
said it — and he said you got a better price than any- 
body for your cattle last fall and that it was the way 
you managed it that you did so well. And he said 
you had as good a business head as a man. And 
Doctor Myrick said you are hale and hearty and 
not old in anything but years, and, please, we want 
you to take us to Europe 1” 

“But that’s the worst of it, Jacky, I am old in 
years, and years are somethin’ that you can’t push 
back or shoo away as you’d chase hens out of a 
garden.” 

“What’s the difference when it makes no differ- 
ence?” asked Jack, who was too much in earnest to 
be choice about the selection of his words. 

“What could I do among all the foreigners?” 
she asked. “They say that people across the seas are 
ready to cheat you every time you turn around, and 
I’d be as mad as a hornet fifty times a day.” 

“They couldn’t get the best of you. Grandma; 
nobody could,” asserted Gerry with great confi- 
dence. 

“Folks ought to know a heap before they go to 
Europe,” objected their grandmother still further, 
“and havin’ married at sixteen it stands to reason 
6 


GRANDMA IS PERSUADED TO GO 


that I didn’t learn all there was to be found out in 
school.” 

“But you arc always reading history, Grandma,” 
insisted Jack. “Mandy says you tell her about 
things that have happened in history that make the 
cold chills run up and down her back. And this 
morning when she was frying doughnuts she was 
telling me what you said about a king that did 
needlework like a woman, and she said she 
wouldn’t marry that kind of man, not if he were 
king of the whole world.” 

“That was Louis the Fifteenth of France,” said 
his grandmother. 

“Well, now you sec. Grandma, if you should go 
to France and they would say, ‘This is the chair 
that King Louis sat in when he made a pin-cush- 
ion,’ or whatever it was, you would know all about 
it.” 

“I hope I do know as much as Bob Mitchell and 
his wife that went over two years ago,” remarked 
the old lady. “Why, when they got back they 
couldn’t talk about a thing but what they’d had to 
eat and what they had to pay for the things they 
bought. ‘Did you see Queen Elizabeth’s grave?’ I 
asked, and they said ‘no’ — that there was a grave- 
yard at home they could visit when they wanted to 
feel solemn. It was just silly. But you youngsters 
don’t think about the expense. It’s nothing but pay 
out money when you travel, you know.” 

“We will pay for everything. Grandma,” said 

7 


(YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


Jack. “I think we must have a great deal of 
money.” 

“Yes, you’ve got a plenty, but you won’t pay for 
me. To tell the truth, I’ve three thousand dollars 
laid away that I could use, for I don’t really need 
it for anything else, and to be honest I’ve always 
wanted to travel in the old country.” 

“Then you really will go?” cried Gerry. “Oh, 
Grandma!” 

“Hold on, don’t be so fast. I haven’t said I’d go 
and if you’ll recollect I haven’t said I wouldn’t go, 
either. There’s things to think about first. If I 
went I wouldn’t want to go straight to where your 
aunt is, but would want to meander a little first. 
I’ve always felt that I’d like to stand by Queen 
Elizabeth’s grave, for I think she was a wonderful 
woman in some ways, though she was often snap- 
pish and high tempered. And I think I’d like to 
stay a while in Paris where poor Marie Antoi- 
nette is laid away, and I wouldn’t miss goin’ to 
Spain and visitin’ the tomb of Queen Isabella for 
anything. Doctor Myrick has been in Europe, — 
I’ll have Johnson hitch up this afternoon and take 
me to town to see the doctor, and if he says there’s 
an easy way such travelin’ can be done before we 
meet your aunt. I’ll have you make a proposition to 
her.” 

“I believe Grandma thought of going even be- 
fore we mentioned it to her,” said Jack, as they 
watched the old lady drive off. 


GRANDMA IS PERSUADED TO GO 


“I think so, too,” said Gerry, “and if she will 
only go we shall have the finest time in the world. 
I always was a little bit afraid of Mr. Compton, 
who looks as if he had just been eating something 
sour.” 

Supper was waiting when Mrs. Honeythorn re- 



won’t tell you a word till I’ve had a cup of tea’ 


turned. She stepped out of the carriage and ran up 
the steps as lightly as a young woman. 

“I won’t tell you a word till I’ve had a cup of tea 
and something to eat,” said she, “for we talked so 
long that I’m just about starved.” 

Later she said: “The doctor thought I’d come 
for medicine, but I says, ‘You needn’t reach out for 
my pulse, for I’ve come for information about the 
old country and not to find out anything about my 

9 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


own constitution.’ He was surprised when I told 
him what I wanted and then I asked him how he 
thought I would stand the trip. After he’d sounded 
my lungs and listened to my heart he says, ‘Mrs. 
Honeythorn, you have a wonderful constitution 
and you’re in better trim than half the young peo- 
ple in the country. You could stand to travel twice 
around the world and come back all the better for 
it.’ 

“ ‘I’m mighty glad to hear that,’ I says, ‘and I 
wish you could insure me against shipwrecks, too.’ 
Then I asked him some questions and he got his 
guide-books and maps and showed me how we 
could go to just the places I want to see. Mr. 
Compton can engage passage for us and Doctor 
Myrick says he’s been wantin’ to go to New York 
for some time and he will go when we do and see us 
off safe. Now you children are more akin to me 
than you are to your Aunt Eleanor, but you can’t 
get your money without her consent. So you write 
to her that if she is willin’ to let us take a little trip 
of our own first I’ll bring you to her myself. 
Mebby she’ll think I’m too old to be trusted with 
you so far away from home, so. Jack, when you 
write you might let her know what the doctor said 
and you might say that there’s no danger of any- 
body gettin’ the best of me in a bargain.” 

J ack wrote that very night and you may be sure 
the description of his grandmother’s health and in- 
telligence did not suffer under his hands. And he 
10 


GRANDMA IS PERSUADED TO GO 


ended the letter with, “Aunt Eleanor, who could 
take better care of a fellow and his sister than their 
own grandmother?” A farm-hand was despatched 
to the post-office with the letter early on the follow- 
ing morning, with instructions to put a five-cent 
stamp on it and send it on its way. 

In due course of time an answer came, in which 
Miss Craile stated that the arrangement would suit 
her very well. Her plans had been changed by an 
invitation to visit an Austrian lady of title and she 
wrote that they might travel wherever they liked 
and she would inform them later where they were 
to join her, which she thought would be in Vienna, 
but was not yet sure about it. 

This news caused the children to dance with de- 
light and their grandmother was no less pleased, 
though she did not show her joy in quite the same 
way. 


IE 


CHAPTER II 


ON THE ATLANTIC 

Doctor Myrick accompanied our friends to New 
York and bade them good-by on board the good 
ship Lucania, leaving a basket of flowers for Mrs. 
Honeythorn and a box of candy for the children. 

Jack and Gerry watched their native land grow 
dimmer and dimmer and Grandma shed a few 
tears at seeing it thus vanish from her sight, though 
she called herself an old simpleton and remarked 
that she ought to remember that she “always could 
go home when there was no other place to go,” and 
that she should be so thankful for the opportunity 
of seeing strange lands that she could think of noth- 
ing else for the joy of the prospect before her. 

“As soon as I get used to the wriggle of this 
ship,” said she, “I am going down to my room and 
read over the things that’s been recommended for 
seasickness.” A deck steward was passing at the 
moment and she stopped him. “Can you tell me 
about how soon a body begins to feel seasickness 
cornin’ on?” she asked. 

“Well, ma’am, that is owing to the persons them- 
selves. Some begin to feel it before the ship gets 
away from the dock, others when it commences to 
be a little rough and still others not at all. I hope 

l£ 


ON THE ATLANTIC 


you will be one of the last mentioned, ma’am,” he 
continued respectfully, as he walked away. 

“Why, I’ve got the list right here in my satchel, 
after all!” exclaimed the old lady, after fumbling 
for some moments in the bag which hung from her 
belt. “After I’d made up my mind to come I asked 
everybody I was acquainted with that had crossed 
the ocean, or that had friends that had been to 
Europe, what was the best thing for seasickness, 
and I wrote all the cures down, for it’s always best 
to be on the safe side. Read ’em over, Jacky.” 

Jack took the paper and read the following cures 
written in his grandmother’s small but plain script: 

“ ‘When you are sick at sea take : 

“ ‘Ginger ale. 

“ ‘Port wine. 

“ ‘Champagne. 

“ ‘Brandy dropped on a piece of sugar. 

“ ‘Avoid all kinds of liquors. 

“ ‘Take chicken broth. 

“ ‘Wear a porous plaster. 

“ ‘Wear a mustard plaster. 

“ ‘Keep your mouth closed. 

“ ‘Eat apples and salt. 

“ ‘Eat dried beef. 

“ ‘Eat nothing. 

“ ‘Take Borrom’s Seasick Medicine. 

“ ‘Take no medicines whatever. 

“ ‘Think that you won’t be sick and you won’t be. 

13 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“ ‘Allow yourself to be ill, it will be good for 
you.’ 

“Why, Grandma,” said Jack, “you can’t do all 
that, you know. You can’t take medicine and let it 
alone at the same time.” 

“Don’t I know that? I wrote things down just as 



They were fond of lying in their steamer chairs 


people told me, for I wanted to give everybody a 
fair show. As for lettin’ liquors alone I do that at 
home and don’t have to travel to begin bein’ tem- 
perate. When I commence to feel bad I guess I’ll 
just take some broth and some dried beef and let it 
go at that.” 

But the dear old lady need not have worried, for 
she as well as her grandchildren were among the 
fortunate ones who were not ill. 


14 


ON THE ATLANTIC 


Everything about the ship was a delight to the 
children. They were fond of lying in their steamer 
chairs all covered up from the chill winds and 
watching the foam-crested waves ; they enjoyed the 
meals in the long dining-saloon ; and when every- 
thing else failed there were books of fairy tales in 
the library in which they became absorbed. Their 
grandmother said she found it somewhat monoto- 
nous to see nothing day after day but the sea and 
sky. “Not even a bird as big as your thumb,” she 
said one day. But the old Atlantic allows few peo- 
ple to cross its broad bosom without stirring them 
up in some way, and one night when Mrs. Honey- 
thorn and the children were sitting on deck they 
noticed that the sea had become as black as ink, 
while the sky was obscured by clouds and the wind 
began to whistle through the rigging like a thou- 
sand demons. 

“Do you think we are going to have a storm?” 
asked Jack of a sailor. 

“I shouldn’t wonder,” was the reply. “When the 
wind begins to talk like that it is safe to expect 
dirty weather.” 

“Why does he call it dirty weather, when there is 
no chance for mud?” asked Gerry, as the man 
passed on. 

“He means that the weather will be bad, I ex- 
pect,” said Grandma. 

“Well,” said Jack cheerfully, “we are not going 
to sink, for this line never has lost a passenger.” 

IS 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“But they may take a notion to begin with us,” 
remarked his sister uneasily. “Look, those sailors 
have put on such queer suits ! Perhaps they expect 
to sink.” 

“Now look here,” said her grandmother, “don’t 
be foolish. You don’t think people dress to go to 
the bottom of the ocean, do you, unless it’s a diver 
who calculates to come up again? Let’s go down 
stairs and go to bed and to sleep as soon as we can 
and forget all about it. This boat is so big that it’s 
like bein’ on land, and so far as I am concerned I 
don’t feel one speck afraid.” 

It is a great comfort to travel with some one who 
is not easily frightened, and the children dismissed 
their fears, though the wind was screaming louder 
than ever. 

The three occupied one large state-room. Jack 
slept on a lounge and Gerry in a berth above that of 
her grandmother. She took great pleasure in 
climbing so high to go to bed. She made up her 
mind that when she grew up and had a house of her 
own she would have a shelf like that near the ceil- 
ing where she could cuddle up warm and snug, 
and go to sleep. But on this particular night none 
of them felt drowsy. 

“It is just because you said we must go to sleep at 
once. Grandma,” said Jack, after a long silence 
which had become trying to Grandma as well as to 
the children. 

“That’s a fact,” was the reply. “I feel wide 

i6 


ON THE ATLANTIC 


enough awake this minute to go out, if I was some 
place where I could, and match a sample of goods 
that had been out of fashion for forty years. I’ve 
tried makin’ sheep jump over the fence, which is a 
good thing to think about when you want to get 
sleepy. In my mind I’ve let down a few rails of the 
fence in that pasture over the hill at home and I’ve 
let more than a thousand sheep jump over it, but 
it don’t do me any good. Just tell yourself that 
you ought to go to sleep and that seems to settle it 
— you can’t get even a wink.” 

“There’s an English boy on this boat that I think 
I’ll lick to-morrow,” remarked Jack after another 
interval of silence. 

“Now what does that kind of talk mean?” asked 
Grandma. 

“Why, he said that his family had been in Amer- 
ica ever since he was a year old and that they hated 
it. He said his father had made lots of money and 
was going back to England to spend it. He says 
that America is a very good kitchen to work in and 
that’s all you can say for it. Every time we are to- 
gether he says something like that, and I won’t 
stand it. There is nothing to do but to give him a 
good thrashing, and I told him I would if he talked 
like that any more.” 

“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” replied his 
grandmother with considerable energy. “If you do 
there will be a little picnic between you and me. 
You didn’t come on this trip to fight. As to Amer- 
17 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


ica bein’ a kitchen, it was a kitchen where your 
forefathers did some very good work with the Eng- 
lish over a hundred years ago and cooked ’em good 
and brown. And that was the end of it with every- 
body who had any gumption. The English as a 
people are inclined to be very friendly with us, 
though Americans are always peckin’ at ’em about 
the wars we had with ’em in the past. I have no 
doubt this boy has been taunted by American boys 
and that is why he feels so ugly about our country. 
Now remember what I say, and treat him so well 
that he’ll be ashamed to be anything but polite.” 

Grandma never scolded unless it was absolutely 
necessary, but when she chose to be firm the chil- 
dren felt there was nothing to do but obey her. 

Jack was awakened during the night by the 
swish, swish of water on the floor. From his couch 
he could touch the electric light switch and when 
it was turned on he found that the floor was covered 
by about six inches of water, and he noticed that his 
grandmother’s wide and comfortable slippers were 
floating from one side of the room to the other with 
the lurching of the ship. The glare of light wak- 
ened Mrs. Honeythorn at once. “What’s the mat- 
ter?” she asked. 

“Grandma, do you think the ship can be sink- 
ing?” asked Jack in a terrified voice, and it cer- 
tainly seemed as if something dreadful must be 
happening, for they were tossing about in such an 
unpleasant way that one moment J ack in his couch 

i8 


ON THE ATLANTIC 


stood on his head and the next on his feet, while the 
thunder roared and the lightning flashed and the 
waves dashed against the port-holes with a crash 
that threatened the next moment to crush the whole 
side of the ship. 

“I don’t know what’s happenin’,” said Mrs. 
Honeythorn. “I never was tickled to death when a 
big storm on land was in full blast, and out here in 
the middle of the ocean it’s a good deal worse. But 
don’t be scared, I reckon we’ll come out of it all 
right.” 

She touched a button at the head of the bed and 
in a few moments a sailor knocked at the door. He 
looked at the water on the floor and, saying never a 
word, vanished and soon returned with some cloths 
with which he mopped it up. 

“Is this something that happens often?” asked 
Grandma. 

“No, ma’am, it never happens unless — ” here he 
stopped suddenly and not another word would he 
utter, though they asked him numerous questions. 

“I reckon he was whipped for talkin’ too much 
when he was a child,” remarked Grandma dryly, 
when the sailor had departed. “Mebby they won’t 
let their sailors talk to the passengers, or mebby 
they think passengers have no business to ask ques- 
tions, but seems to me it’s only natural to be a little 
bit interested about your chances for drownin’. I 
don’t like this bumpin’ around so, and I can’t help 
wishin’ that I was safe in my own quiet bed at 
19 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


home. I was dreamin’ that I was bein’ shook up in 
a corn-popper when you woke me, J acky.” 

“Do you think we can be sinking, Grandma?” 
asked Jack again. 

“Not a bit of it. Always use your reasonin’ pow- 
ers and nine times out of ten you’ll be answered 
when you ask a question like that. If we had been 
sinkin’ that man wouldn’t have spent so much time 
in wipin’ up the floor. What would have been the 
use of bangin’ up my slippers so careful on two dif- 
ferent nails if we’d been goin’ to the bottom of the 
sea, where they’d be soakin’ wet again? So you can 
go to sleep.” 

And J ack obediently closed his eyes and was soon 
asleep, in spite of the roar of the storm. His grand- 
mother remained awake until the gray of dawn, 
while Gerry happily had slept through it all, un- 
conscious of the fact that the others had discussed 
the probability of a trip to the bottom of the sea. 


20 


CHAPTER III 


AN ADDITION TO THE PARTY 

It was quite late when they were awakened by 
the stewardess, who informed them that the acci- 
dent of the previous night had been nothing more 
serious than a leaky port-hole. “Then why couldn’t 
the man have told us so?” asked Grandma. “I’d ad- 
vise him to stay on land a while and board with 
some family that will teach him to talk. It’s a 
pretty shaky morning, ain’t it, and I don’t see how 
I’m goin’ to stand still long enough to dress my- 
self.” 

“Indeed, ma’am, it is a very bad morning,” re- 
plied the stewardess. “The storm is over, but the 
sea is still heavy, as you can feel for yourself. You 
will be much more comfortable in bed and I will 
send in your breakfast.” 

Both Jack and Gerry preferred to go to the table, 
for they thought it would be amusing to see the 
dishes jump about. “I think I’ll take her advice 
and stay in bed,” said their grandmother, “i am 
not a bit seasick but I don’t want to be bumped 
around.” 

The children found the tables surrounded by 
railings to prevent the dishes from sliding off, and 
they noticed that there were very few people break- 
21 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


fasting there that morning. There was no one at 
their end of the table save the English boy, who re- 
joiced in the high-sounding name of Cecil Cham- 
berlayne, and Miss Fay, a pretty young lady about 
eighteen or nineteen years old, with deep blue eyes 
and waving brown hair. 

Miss Fay seemed inclined to be friendly with 
Mrs. Honeythorn from the first and that morning 
she greeted Jack and Gerry joyously, saying, “I am 
so glad of your company! I was afraid I should be 
obliged to breakfast all alone, or at least with no 
one near me with whom to exchange a word, which 
would be very doleful on this gray and gloomy 
morning. And I never was fond of my own com- 
pany; had I been an animal I should have been 
gregarious, — the kind that goes in flocks, you 
know. But here comes your breakfast food and you 
will be lucky if you can eat it before it flies away 
from you.” 

They managed to make a very comfortable 
breakfast in spite of the rough sea, and when they 
were through Miss Fay said: “Now let us go and 
sit on that long sofa in the saloon all side by side, 
and I will read to you.” 

“You can read fairy stories to us,” said Gerry, 
“we both love them.” 

This plan was agreed upon and Cecil looked so 
disconsolate at being left alone that Jack said to 
him, “If you will stop saying disagreeable things 
about my country I am perfectly willing to be 

22 


AN ADDITION TO THE PARTY 


friends, and we shall be very glad if you will come 
over and listen to Miss Fay read from Gerry’s 
story-book.” 

Cecil gladly accepted the invitation and before 
the day was over he was wearing the American flag 
in the shape of an enameled pin presented by J ack, 
thus displaying on the front of his coat a banner 



which on the previous day he had characterized as 
“a dirty rag.” 

When the reading was over and Jack and Cecil 
had wandered amiably together to the other end of 
the saloon, Miss Fay, who had remained silent for 
some time with her arm about Gerry’s shoulders, 
said: “I wonder if your grandmother would be 
willing to have me join your party?” 

“But we are not going to give a party, at least not 
for a great while,” replied Gerry wonderingly. 

23 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


Miss Fay laughed. “I did not mean a social 
function,” said she. “I would not fish for an invita- 
tion of that kind. I meant to ask if you thought she 
would he willing to let me travel in your company, 
—to be one of you, for a time, you know.” 

“Oh, I am sure she would love to have you!” 
cried Gerry. 

“Do not be too sure of that. She may object be- 
cause I am a stranger, but I think I could be of use 
to you all, and four is a good number for a travel- 
ing party, — just enough for a carriage or to be com- 
fortable at a small table. I will frankly state that I 
know it will be cheaper for me to pay one-fourth of 
the expense of a carriage, but my real reason is that 
I feel so desolate traveling alone, and I have taken 
a fancy to you children and to your dear old grand- 
mother.” 

“Everybody likes Grandma,” said Gerry. “You 
should have seen the people who went to the depot 
to bid her good-by when she left home ! It was like 
a large meeting of some kind.” 

“I am not surprised to hear it and I hope she will 
like me well enough to permit me to travel in your 
company, at least until I become used to going 
about in a foreign country.” 

“I don’t see how she could help liking you,” said 
Gerry earnestly, at which Miss Fay laughed and 
kissed her on the cheek. 

But Grandma did not at first seem to take kindly 
to the arrangement. 


24 


AN ADDITION TO THE PARTY 


“She is pretty, as pretty as a pink,” said the old 
lady, “and it’s a pleasure to look at her. But beauty 
ain’t everything, you know.” 

“But she is so pleasant and kind,” said Gerry. 
“And she would be such good company for us — 
please let her come, too.” 

“Well, I can’t think very clear about anything as 
long as these waves keep their backs up like this. 
Wait till it’s calmer and then we can talk about it.” 

By the following morning the weather was clear, 
the blue water dimpled and sparkled in the sun- 
shine and the sea was on its best behavior. Passen- 
gers emerged from their state-rooms and, although 
many of them looked paler than when last seen in 
public, everybody was inclined to be good-natured, 
and the fact that they were nearing the end of the 
voyage contributed in no small degree to their 
cheerful demeanor. 

As soon as breakfast was finished Miss Fay 
sought the side of Mrs. Honeythorn and timidly 
made the same request she had mentioned to Gerry. 

“I do feel so lonely traveling all by myself,” she 
said again. 

“What made you start out that way?” asked the 
old lady bluntly. 

“Because I could not help myself. Ever since I 
can remember I have wanted to travel in Europe, 
and the work I have taken up makes me feel the 
necessity of seeing something outside of my own 
country. My father was once a wealthy man, but 
25 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLEi PLACES 


he failed shortly before his death, and the first 
money I earned, that I could spare, has gone into 
this trip. There was no one to come with me and I 
was obliged to travel alone or to give up my plans 
for some time to come. I can be of use to you in 
various ways, Mrs. Honeythorn. I can speak Span- 
ish, French and Italian, and if you grow tired of 
me you have only to say so and I will drop behind 
you or hasten on before,” she continued, smiling. 

“But I’d like to know how a young thing like you 
could earn enough to take such a journey as this,” 
said the old lady. 

“The money was honestly earned with this,” said 
the girl, as he held out a small white hand. 

“You ain’t a dressmaker?” 

“No, although I do know how to sew up a seam. 
Mrs. Honeythorn, I am an author in a small way. 
I have written a book which the public was kind 
enough to spend some of its money for, and now I 
am writing another. My books are historical nov- 
els.” 

Mrs. Honeythorn was very much surprised. 
“Well, if that don’t beat anything! I thought 
women didn’t write books till they got kind of old 
and soured!” 

Miss Fay laughed merrily. “I am getting old; I 
am in the last of my teens, but I hope I am not 
soured.” 

“What is the name of the book you published?” 

“It is called Coming Into His Oww.” 

26 


AN ADDITION TO THE PARTY 


“What, that novel?” cried the old lady excitedly. 
“Why, I lost two good hours’ sleep one night, try- 
in’ to finish that book, for I’m a reg’lar old ninny 
about an interestin’ story. But I thought a man 
wrote it.” 

“My name is Philena and I always write it ‘Phil 
Fay.’ ” 

“I liked that book,” said the old lady. “It ended 
so well. Henry settled that miserable excuse for a 
king, Richard the Third, in the battle of Bosworth, 
and then he was crowned, and he married the right 
girl, too. I don’t like a book that ends with nothin’ 
but a hint and leaves you on tiptoe as to what the 
folks will do when you’re through with ’em.” 

“I had only to follow history to end that book in 
a satisfactory manner,” said Miss Fay. “You know 
Henry really did kill Richard and he afterward 
married ‘the right girl.’ ” 

“Yes, and I’m sorry that she had to be the mother 
of such a creature as Henry the Eighth. Well, 
Miss Fay, I want to tell you right now that I shall 
be happy and proud to have you travel with us, 
which you can do till you get tired of us.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Honeythorn; in that case I 
am sure I never should leave you. I hope you will 
call me by my first name, ‘Phil,’ for it will seem so 
much more friendly and comfortable.” 

The children were quite disappointed at their 
first glimpse of land. They had expected to behold 
nothing but flower gardens, and instead they saw 

27 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


great black rocks which the stewardess told them 
was “Welsh Wales.” 

“Why should she say Welsh Wales any more 
than Irish Ireland?” asked Jack of Miss Fay. 

“I really can not tell you,” was the reply, “as I 
am not acquainted with the ways of stewardesses.” 



“Why do they poke through the baggage of a woman of my age?’* 


When they arrived at Liverpool there was the 
usual long wait while their baggage was being ex- 
amined. “Wby do they want to poke through the 
baggage of a woman of my age?” asked Mrs. 
Honeythorn of a gentleman who had been very 
kind to her during the voyage. 

“To see if you have any tobacco or liquor with 
you,” he answered with a twinkle of the eye. 

“What, me?” she cried indignantly. “Why, I 

28 


AN ADDITION TO THE PARTY 


hate the very sight of tobacco and I wouldn’t have 
any whisky with me, not for anything in this 
world!” 

It was then explained to her that this was a form 
to which every traveler must submit, lest goods 
upon which the government exacts a duty should 
be smuggled in free of charge ; and while still in- 
sisting that anybody with the least grain of com- 
mon sense might know that she had no intention to 
cheat the British government. Grandma regained 
her good humor. 

It was not until they had taken the train for Lon- 
don that our friends began to feel that they really 
were in England. Their railway compartment, 
such “a cunning little car” the children said, lined 
as it was with the finest of blue broadcloth, they 
thought fine enough for the king, and oh, the beau- 
tiful country with its long line of hawthorn hedges 
now in blossoms as white as snow and its grass that 
seemed to invite them from the car to play over its 
velvet greenness. The children scarcely turned 
their faces from the window, for it seemed so good 
to see the trees and meadows once more, and all 
were absorbed in pleasant thoughts as they gazed 
at the flying landscape. Miss F ay was thinking that 
this was the England of Shakespeare, the land that 
he called “this precious stone set in a silver sea.” 
Mrs. Honeythorn was thinking of Queen Eliza- 
beth and wondering if that august personage at 
some time, when riding her horse and followed by 

29 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


her admiring courtiers, had not passed along this 
route and honored the scenery by a glance of her 
eagle eye; while Jack and Gerry, who had listened 
to fairy stories related to them by Miss Fay, almost 
expected to see fantastic elves capering among the 
bloom of the hedges. 

They glided into the depot in London without 
the pompous noise and puffing of an American 
train, and Miss Fay insisted upon looking after the 
baggage and engaging the cab while Mrs. Honey- 
thorn remained with the children. They drove in a 
four-wheeler to the De Keyser Royal, a hotel on 
the Victoria Embankment, where the party en- 
gaged three bedrooms and a sitting-room and pro- 
ceeded to make themselves comfortable. 

Their grandmother having decided that they 
were not to go out until the next day, the children 
amused themselves until dinner-time by watching 
the boats passing on the Thames, their windows 
commanding a fine view of that historic river. 

Grandma lay down in her room “to get good and 
rested,” she said, while Miss Fay went to work to 
make their sitting-room look as homelike as pos- 
sible, for they were to be there for some time. First 
she fastened a silk American flag over the mantel- 
piece, then she placed a work-basket on the table 
and hung a darning-bag against the wall by the 
fireplace. On a shelf above the writing-desk that 
stood between two windows she placed the books 
owned by the party, then she hung a calendar on 
30 


AN ADDITION TO THE PARTY 


the wall, put photographs about and with a few 
other touches made the room so attractive that 
when Mrs. Honeythorn entered it after a refresh- 
ing nap she declared that all the strange part of it 
had disappeared and that now it seemed quite cozy. 

The six-o’clock dinner in the large dining-room 
was eleven courses long and it was after the chil- 
dren’s bed-time when they were through, Mrs. 
Honeythorn and even Miss Fay retired at nine 
o’clock in order to begin sight-seeing at an early 
hour on the following morning. 


31 


CHAPTER IV 


SEEING THE SIGHTS OF LONDON 

“Where shall we go first?” asked Miss Fay. 

“I want to see Queen Elizabeth’s grave the very 
first thing,” replied Grandma, tying her bonnet 
strings with a resolute jerk. 

“That is in Westminster Abbey,” said Miss Fay, 
“and I, too, am anxious to visit a tomb there, that 
of Henry the Fifth, my favorite English king.” 

They went down to the street and a man in 
ragged clothes said to Mrs. Honeythorn, “Shall I 
call yer a cab, lydy?” 

“I wish you would,” replied she. 

The man whistled to a driver near and then held 
out his hand to be paid. The smallest change she 
had was a shilling, which she insisted upon calling 
a quarter. She gave it to him, and as they took their 
seats in the carriage she said grimly: “I’ve heard 
of payin’ too dear for a whistle and I’ve just paid 
that man a quarter to whistle for this driver. I ex- 
pect he needed the money, but it makes me mad to 
think how slick he was about gettin’ it. At home 
any tramp you meet along the road would do a 
good deal more than that for you and not expect a 
cent for it.” 

It was a fair sunny day and as they whirled 
32 


SEEING THE SIGHTS OF LONDON 


along the streets they watched the crowds of people 
hurrying along the sidewalks of the largest city of 
the world. The children were particularly inter- 
ested in the omnibuses completely covered by ad- 
vertisements and with winding stairs leading to the 
top, which Jack and Gerry thought must be a great 



‘‘Shall I call yer a cab, lydy?” 


deal of fun to climb, to say nothing of sitting up 
there to enjoy the ride. 

“Grandma,” said Gerry, “can’t we sit on the top 
of the omnibus coming back? It would be so much 
pleasanter than this carriage. It is nothing wonder- 
ful to ride in a carriage, for we can do that at home, 
but it must be just glorious on the top of a ’bus. I 
don’t suppose it costs a great deal more than a car- 
riage, though it is so much nicer.” 

33 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“Fiddlesticks!” exclaimed her grandmother. 
“You don’t s’pose, do you, that I’m goin’ to climb 
up such ticklish steps at my age? It makes me 
dizzy to think of it and it wouldn’t look well for a 
woman of my years to do such a thing.” 

“But, Grandma,” said Jack, “I saw well-dressed 
ladies up there who are older than you are, and we 
would see that you did not fall off the steps. They 
can’t be so difficult to climb or so many people 
would not be riding up there.” 

“Well, we’ll see about it. If you will behave 
while we’re in the church and not giggle. I’ll try 
to work myself up to the top of a ’bus, though it 
will he takin’ my life in my hands to do it.” 

Alighting from the carriage at Westminster Ab- 
bey, Gerry walked along the block a little distance 
by herself while waiting for the driver to be paid. 
When she returned she carried a cluster of faded 
and very disreputable-looking roses. 

“What in this world made you buy such a with- 
ered, miserable lot of flowers as that?” asked her 
grandmother. “You, that are used to pickin’ roses 
right off the bush at home, to come here and lay 
out your pocket-money on trash that oughtn’t to be 
any place but in the alley! What did you give for 
’em?” 

“A penny,” replied Gerry somewhat shame- 
facedly. 

“That wasn’t expensive, but you mustn’t buy 
things just because they are cheap. They’ll be in 

34 


SEEING THE SIGHTS OF LONDON 


your way, too. I can’t see what possessed you !” ex- 
claimed Grandma. 

“I bought them of that woman on the corner, 
Grandma,” said Gerry. “She said, ‘Oh lydy, please 
buy my roses. I’m so pore!’ I told her I did not 
want the flowers, hut she might have the penny, and 
she slipped the roses in my hand, for she said she 
would be arrested for taking money without giving 
something for it.” 

“That is true,” said Miss Fay. “Begging is pro- 
hibited in London.” 

“Poor thing!” said Grandma; “she does look real 
shabby, don’t she? I don’t think she’s had a real 
good meal for a long time. I’ll go over and speak 
to her and mebby I can drop a quarter in her hand 
without bein’ seen by that big policeman.” 

But the officer turned his head at the wrong mo- 
ment and when Mrs. Honeythorn returned she car- 
ried quite a large bouquet and the flowers were no 
finer than those purchased by Gerry. 

“That makes fifty cents I’ve spent this morning 
without gettin’ much back,” said she. “I don’t 
know what to do with these pesky posies.” 

“Can’t you put them on Queen Elizabeth’s 
grave?” asked Jack, in the sprightly tone of one 
who offers an easy solution of a difficulty. 

“Good gracious! They’re not fit to put on a cat’s 
grave, much less a queen’s.” 

A ragged little boy was passing at this moment. 
“Here, dear,” said Miss Fay, touching his shoul- 

35 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


der, “don’t you want some flowers?” And taking 
their recent purchases from Mrs. Honeythorn and 
Gerry she gave them to the boy, who, amazed at be- 
ing called “dear” by a lady so beautiful and so well- 
dressed, took them without a word. But the next 
moment they saw him offering them to an old 
woman who purchased two of them. 

“He knows what to do with ’em and I’m glad 
they’re out of our hands,” observed Grandma. “I 
don’t like to throw anything on the sidewalks in 
these foreign cities, for I’ve heard of people bein’ 
arrested for such things.” 

The children were surprised to find that the 
tombs of the great people their grandmother and 
Miss Fay were anxious to see were not in a ceme- 
tery at the back of the church, as they had expected 
them to be, but were actually in the Abbey. All 
around were tombs and monuments and busts of 
celebrated men and women, who had once walked 
the earth and who now were sleeping within the 
walls of this gorgeous old church where the stained 
glass was so beautiful and everything was so solemn 
that, so far from wanting to giggle. Jack and Gerry 
experienced a sensation of awe and gravity which 
was quite unusual with those lively youngsters. 

“Show me the chapel of Henry the Seventh, 
please,” said Miss Fay to one of the attendants, — a 
dignified individual in a long black robe. 

“Now, children,” said she as they paused at the 
black marble steps, “notice the roses in these gates. 

36 




•wwaMi 








II iiMmr I iii |Tfi < <w ii ' i»jii ^i ii t > r »i r' ii :''i r --'i-'-rn '-t^i^^ 






!iy ii rt i l^ ’i >i ii ’ft i> I ' nii iW W i W4 ?* m 8<F»*>. 


•^^tiyifctij^iiiiininirVj 


All around were tombs of celebrated men and women 




























SEEING THE SIGHTS OF LONDON 


As everything connected with royalty means some- 
thing, so these roses tell of the end of a long war. 
Two royal houses, York and Lancaster, were en- 
gaged in a bitter conflict for the throne of Eng- 
land. Lancaster bore the red and York the white 
rose, and the war ended with the battle of Bos- 
worth, of which your grandmother was speaking a 
few nights ago. The red rose was victorious and 
the Duke of Lancaster, who afterward became 
Henry the Seventh, was united in marriage to 
Elizabeth of York and thus the difficulty was set- 
tled and the two roses were twined together in 
friendship.” 

“I’ve a striped rose in my yard at home,” said 
Grandma, “called the York-and-Lancaster, and I 
reckon you could call it the Henry the Eighth, as 
he was the son of this king and queen.”' 

“Here is the tomb of poor Mary, Queen of 
Scots,” said Miss Fay, pointing to a recumbent 
marble figure with its hands folded as if in prayer. 
“And here is Queen Elizabeth. They were envious 
of each other in life, but in death they are not far 
apart.” 

Grandma stood by the tomb of the great Eliza- 
beth and looked mournfully down upon it. “She 
had her faults,” she said at last, “and one of ’em was 
the way she treated Mary Stuart, but she had her 
good qualities, too. She reigned over England for 
forty-five years and the country never before had 
flourished as it did when she took hold of things.” 

37 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


At one tomb Jack paused in reverence. The boy 
was very fond of stories, and, reading the inscrip- 
tion, Jack saw that beneath this flat stone lay 
the author of his favorite book, David Copper- 
field. 

In the chapel of Edward the Confessor Miss Fay 
found the tomb she most wanted to see, that of 



Henry the Fifth. “See, hanging above it,” said she, 
“are the helmet, shield and saddle used by the king 
nearly five hundred years ago at the famous battle 
of Agincourt, where Henry conquered the French 
forces which were four times as strong as his own.” 

“When I went to school,” remarked Mrs. 
Honeythorn, “the boys used to recite Henry’s 
speech at the battle of Harfleur, beginnin’, ‘Once 
more unto the breach, dear friends,’ and I recollect 
38 



SEEING THE SIGHTS OF LONDON 

the teacher would make ’em pause at every comma 
long enough to count one and longer at the other 
stops, just as if a king in the excitement of battle 
would talk as if he was tryin’ to reason out why 
heef should be so high this year!” 

“They do not drawl that speech now,” said Miss 
Fay, “but a good teacher will make a pupil recite 
it hurriedly, as it might have been spoken at such a 
time.” 

“Here is the coronation chair,” said Grandma. 
“I have often read about it.” 

“It has indeed a long history,” said Miss Fay. 
“Under it is the stone called the Stone of Scone, 
which that wise and great king, Edward the First, 
brought from Scotland six hundred years ago. 
There is a tradition that it was used by Jacob for a 
pillow, and the Irish claim that they owned it be- 
fore the English and Scotch ever heard of it. A 
strange people who were necromancers and sorcer- 
ers brought it to Ireland in the first place. It ap- 
pears that there was nothing wonderful, or magical 
or diabolical that these people could not do, from 
causing their island to shrivel up at the approach 
of enemies, to restoring their own .soldiers to life as 
soon as they fell in battle. They enchanted the 
stone, and when a rightful heir took his place on it 
to be crowned it howled and shrieked with delight, 
but if the king to be crowned had no claim to the 
throne it remained perfectly quiet.” 

“What did it do when King Edward the Sev- 

39 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 

enth was crowned?” asked Jack, who felt more at 
home in the present time. 

“It was silent.” 

“Then that means that he has no right to the 
throne of England?” 

“Oh, it did all its performing long ago in Ire- 
land,” laughed Miss Fay. “It is a well-behaved 
stone now, and no one knows how it really feels 
when, covered with cloth of gold, the old chair 
above it receives the sovereign of England.” 

In a room in the Abbey called the Jerusalem 
Chamber Miss Fay explained that it was here that 
the kings and queens of England put on their 
splendid robes before they were crowned. “It was 
here,” said she, “that Henry the Fourth died. The 
Stone of Scone would not have howled with ecstasy 
under his weight, for he really had no right to the 
throne. Henry had been told that he would die in 
Jerusalem, and one day, when he came to West- 
minster Abbey to pray before the shrine of Edward 
the Confessor, he became suddenly very ill with 
what he knew to be his last sickness and was carried 
into this room. Shakespeare tells us that, asking the 
name of the room, Henry was told that it was the 
Jerusalem Chamber, and he repeated what had 
been foretold for him, adding, ‘In that Jerusalem 
shall Harry die.’ And there, over the mantel-shelf, 
you see carved those last words of the king.” 

From the Abbey they went to quaint old St. 
Margaret’s Church, in which there is a window 

40 


SEEING THE SIGHTS OF LONDON 


dedicated by Americans to the memory of Sir Wal- 
ter Raleigh. 

“I never thought so much of him,” observed 
Grandma, “after I read that he was the first to 
bring the use of tobacco among white folks. I won- 
der that Queen Elizabeth allowed it.” 

“Oh, what terrible spelling!” exclaimed Jack, 
who had paused before one of the old tablets. This 
is what he was reading : 

“Interred here in grave doth Thomas Amway lye, 

Who in his lifetime loved the poore and in that love did dye, 
For -what he left to help the poore he did devise the same 
Not idell folke but such as woulde themselves to goodness 
frame ; 

The thriftie peopell by his will that in the parish dwell 
Five pounds for their comfort may have if yt they use it well. 
From year to year if carefullie they look into their charge. 
Of such men as this Arnway was God make the number 
large.” 

“There is something to be desired in the spell- 
ing,” said Miss Fay, “but the English language has 
changed with the passing centuries. The spelling 
of Henry the Eighth was wonderful to behold ; he 
wrote ‘togydder’ for ‘together,’ and it is said that 
your grandmother’s favorite Queen Elizabeth 
spelled the word ‘sovereign’ in seven different 
ways.” 

After they had visited the two houses of parlia- 
ment where the laws of England are made Gerry 
said, “Oh, Grandma, I am so tired and so very, 
41 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


very hungry. Don’t you suppose the people of Lon- 
don eat in the middle of the day as we do at home?” 

“Bless its little heart, I expect it is hungry!” ex- 
claimed Grandma, who, when she wished to be 
particularly affectionate toward Gerry, always ad- 
dressed her as if she were a very small baby. “Let’s 
go somewhere for luncheon I” 

“Now, Grandma,” said Jack when the meal was 
finished, “we did not giggle once in Westminster 
Abbey and you know what you promised.” 

“I recollect it very well and we will climb to the 
top of a ’bus as soon as Miss Fay can find the one 
we ought to take.” 

As they were waiting on the corner Jack said, 
“Look, isn’t that a queer sentence printed in the 
window of that butcher shop? ‘CAT’s-MEAT MAN 
TO THE QUEEN.’ Do you suppose. Miss Fay, that he 
sells the queen all the meat her cat eats?” 

“As you ask my candid opinion I will say that 
I think it extremely doubtful, though it is possible 
that at some time a portion of meat was bought in 
that shop for her Majesty’s cat.” 

Near them was a bakery, in the window of which 
were displayed various kinds of tempting cakes. 
Before this window stood a pretty but very ragged 
little girl. She remained for a time with her hands 
clasped in rapture, then she began to press her lips 
to the glass immediately opposite some round 
raisin cakes. 

“What makes you do that?” asked Mrs. Honey- 

42 


SEEING THE SIGHTS OF LONDON 


thorn kindly, for she had a warm heart for all 
children. 

“Because it mykes the kykes tyste so fine,” she re- 
plied in her funny cockney accent. “Look at them 
big ones all bustin’ with rysins !” 

“Why, you can’t taste ’em through that thick 
glass, you funny little thing!” 

“It seems as if I could, lydy.” 

“Here is our omnibus, Mrs. Honeythorn,” said 
Miss Fay. 

“Never mind the omnibus, there’ll be more like 
it. Say, child, didn’t you ever really eat a cake like 
that?” 

The little one shook her head. 

“Then you shall feed something beside your im- 
agination, if I have to stay here till dark. Here, 
Jack, take this quarter and go with her into the 
shop and let her pick out the cakes she wants.” 

The boy needed no second bidding, and in a few 
moments the child reappeared with an expression 
of ecstasy and a large bag of cakes. 

Another omnibus now came in sight and soon the 
four were ascending the narrow winding steps to 
the top of it, where they found seats near the driver. 
To Jack and Gerry this was the most delightful 
ride of their lives. A ride on the top of a load of 
hay, which they often had enjoyed when staying at 
their grandmother’s farm, could not be compared 
with this, for from the hay-wagon there was noth- 
ing to be seen but trees and sky and meadows, while 

43 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


now they beheld queer old houses, tiny parks put 
where one would least expect them, and odd signs 
over the doors, to say nothing of the crowds of peo- 
ple and the vehicles in the streets. They gave vent 
to so many exclamations of pleasure that their 
grandmother said: “You youngsters seem to be 
happier on this two-cent ride than King Edward is 
if he’s going out this minute in his finest carriage.” 

“I believe. Grandma,” said Jack, “that it isn’t so 
much what a thing costs that counts, as the fun you 
get out of it.” 

“Spoken like a true philosopher,” remarked 
Miss Fay. 

Hearing the conductor say something about 
Piccadilly Circus, Gerry said, “O Grandma, let’s 
go to the circus! I should think a circus in London 
would be very grand.” 

“No circus for us to-day,” returned her grand- 
mother, “There’s plenty to be seen in London with- 
out goin’ to a circus which you’ve seen a hundred 
times at home, for they’re all alike. The clown al- 
ways says the same things and the girl always 
jumps the hoops just the same way.” 

“Excuse me, lydy,” said the driver, “but Picca- 
dilly ain’t no show, it’s a plyce.” 

“It’s a what?” asked J ack. 

“He means a place,” explained Miss Fay in a 
low voice. “A circus, as applied to London streets, 
means the spot where two streets cross each other at 
right angles.” 


44 


SEEING THE SIGHTS OF LONDON 


“As we would say ‘cross-roads’?” asked Mrs. 
Honeythorn. 

“Yes.” 

When they reached Trafalgar Square Miss Fay 
told the children about Lord Nelson, whose monu- 
ment is erected there. “He was the commander of 
the Mediterranean fleet and already had lost an eye 
and an arm in the service of his country. He had 
thought that his days of active service were over, 
but when he felt that he again was needed in the 
battles of the sea he once more offered to help. He 
felt sure of victory in this last conflict, but it is said 
that he also felt a foreboding of death. But a true 
patriot cares very little for his own life when his 
country needs him, and he met the Spanish and 
French ships near Cape Trafalgar. How the men 
on the English ship cheered when Lord Nelson ran 
up a flag to the mast-head of his own ship bearing 
this signal, ‘England expects every man to do his 
duty.’ And every man obeyed him to the letter. 
But that morning Lord Nelson had been so im- 
prudent as to put on his handsomest and most con- 
spicuous uniform, which afforded an excellent 
mark for the enemy. He was mortally wounded, 
but he had the satisfaction of knowing, before he 
breathed his last, that he had won the battle and 
that his life had not been sacrificed in vain. And 
that is why his grateful country has erected this 
monument to his memory and named the square for 
the scene of battle. It would be difficult to say what 

45 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


might have happened to England if this victory 
had not been won, for Napoleon was ready with a 
large army to invade the country, with a fleet to 
protect them as they crossed the Channel, but these 
ships were completely destroyed by Nelson, and 
Napoleon was thus prevented from invading Eng- 
lish shores.” 

“What place is this?” asked J ack presently. 

“This is Charing Cross,” replied the driver. 

“There is a romance connected with this spot,” 
said Miss Fay, “though it does not seem to be very 
romantic now. That cross is a copy of one erected 
by Edward the First to his beloved queen, Eleanor. 
He was but fifteen when they were married while 
she was a child of eleven, a Spanish princess, called 
in her own country Leonor of Castile. Edward left 
his child-queen in Bordeaux w'hile he went away 
to the wars, and he did not see her again until she 
was a beautiful young woman of twenty. Then the 
two fell in love with each other, and when he went 
to the Crusades she insisted upon going with him, 
for she said the way to Heaven was as short from 
Syria as from England. Spanish historians say that 
when the king was wounded by an arrow Eleanor 
sucked the poison from the wound. Whether this 
be true or not, she was a noble woman and the king 
was very fond of her, and when she died he was 
overcome with grief. As they carried her coffin to 
Westminster Abbey it was put down on that spot 
during the halt and the king ordered that a cross 

46 


SEEING TElE sights OF LONDON 


should be erected there. It was named Chere Reine 
Cross — Dear Queen Cross — which since has been 
corrupted to Charing.” 

On the omnibus rattled, past various places of in- 
terest; up Ludgate Hill and past St. Paul’s, past 
the old church of St. Mary le Bow, of which Miss 
Fay said, “All who are born within the sound of the 
bells of this church are called cockneys.” Still on 
past the Bank of England, sometimes called the 
“Old Lady of Threadneedle Street,” past the Royal 
Exchange and the statue of that famous hero of 
Waterloo, the Duke of Wellington. And Grandma 
said that should she be obliged to return home that 
very night she would feel that it had paid her to 
come over. 


47 


CHAPTER V 


GERRY IS LOST 

One afternoon, some days after the events re- 
lated in the foregoing chapter, Gerry complained 
of a sore throat. Grandma, who, the children felt 
sure, knew as much about medicine as a doctor, 
called Gerry to her side. After she had opened her 
mouth very wide at the bidding of her grand- 
mother, the latter, after a careful examination, said, 
“I can’t see a thing the matter with it and you 
haven’t any fever. Do your bones ache?” 

“No, Grandma.” 

“Then I can’t see that you’re in a dangerous con- 
dition, but I think you’d better stay in this after- 
noon, and Jack can stay with you for company. It 
won’t hurt you to rest, anyway, and we’ll all go to 
the Tower to-morrow. You can read that history I 
bought yesterday and learn something for your- 
selves about what we’re goin’ to see. As for me, I’m 
goin’ to the milliner’s with Miss Fay, for I don’t 
feel that my bonnet is just the kind that London 
women are wearin’.” 

“Where is the milliner’s store. Grandma?” asked 
Jack. 

“I don’t know, but I s’pose it’s in some kind of a 


GERRY IS LOST 


circus, — not the kind where a clown bounces 
around, but the circus they have here.” 

“I don’t see how I can study history, if my throat 
is sore,” remarked Gerry. 

“I don’t see why you can’t. You don’t study with 
your throat, do you? But Jack can read aloud to 
you, and if I should run across any candy while I’m 
out I’ll bring you a box of it.” 

Left alone with Gerry, J ack read aloud to her for 
about fifteen minutes. The writer of the book had 
told his story in the most uninteresting way possi- 
ble, peppering his statements with plenty of fig- 
ures. The boy soon threw the volume aside, ex- 
claiming, “I won’t read any more of that stupid 
stuff! Miss Fay is a great deal better than a book 
and she will tell us all that we want to know. Isn’t 
it a pity we can’t go out, when this is the first sun- 
shine we’ve had for three days? What made you 
take such a fine day to have a sore throat, so I would 
have to stay with you for company?” 

“I didn’t have it because I wanted it,” retorted 
his sister. “A sore throat just comes, whether you 
are ready for it or not.” 

She swallowed to illustrate the extreme difficulty 
of the act, and looked surprised; swallowed again 
and looked more surprised, then she cried joyously, 
“Oh, J ack, my throat is entirely well I” 

“Yes, when it’s too late to go out with Grandma 
and Miss Fay! But say, why can’t we go out by 
ourselves?” 


49 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“Grandma wouldn’t like it. She expects me to 
stay in.” 

“That was because your throat was sore. You say 
it is well now. Let’s have another ’bus ride, — on 
top, you know. I know where we can take a ’bus. 
I don’t know where it goes and I don’t care. We 
can get back somehow, for you know Grandma 
gave us some more money this morning.” 

Gerry needed no urging, but ran to her room to 
dress. The gown she was wearing was neat, and 
was suitable to wear on the top of an omnibus, but 
there was a scarlet costume in her trunk which she 
had been longing to put on, but which her grand- 
mother had refused to allow her to wear because, 
as the old lady expressed it, it was “too red.” 
Gerry thought she might as well wear it now when 
her grandmother could not be offended by the gay- 
ness of it. The material was of fine soft silk, the 
skirt was accordion plaited and the billowy ruffles 
about the shoulders were a joy to Gerry’s heart. 
There were handsome red silk stockings and red 
shoes to be worn with it, while the crowning glory 
of the costume was a large red hat. Gerry was a 
very pretty child with large soft brown eyes and 
brown hair tinged with gold, and she was a picture 
as she ran into the sitting-room to ask Jack to fasten 
a few buttons that she could not reach. Grandma 
had insisted upon her learning to dress herself, but 
there often are a few buttons on the back of a waist 
which the wearer can not touch and which she 
so 


GERRY IS LOST 


needs assistance in managing, no matter what her 
age may be. 

“My !” exclaimed J ack, “but you are fine ! Won’t 
Grandma give it to you though? She said that dress 
made you look like a circus performer.” 

“Aunt Eleanor ordered ‘one red costume,’ and 
this is what came, so it must be all right. I will take 
it off before Grandma sees it, for if she is going to 
buy a bonnet she won’t be back before dark.” 

“Well, come along then,” said Jack, “or it will 
be dark before we get started,” — and they were 
soon out of the hotel and climbing the winding 
stairs to the top of an omnibus. 

Each of the children had eight new shillings. 
Gerry carried her money in a bag, fringed and cov- 
ered with red beads, which had been made by the 
Indians of her own country. “How shall we get 
back?” she asked, when the first enthusiasm of the 
ride had worn off. “What if we should get lost?” 

“We can’t get lost,” replied her brother. “All we 
shall have to do will be to ask a policeman where to 
get a ’bus that will take us near our hotel ; or if we 
can’t do that we can take a cab, for we’ve plenty of 
money between us.” 

They sat near the driver, who told them many 
things they wanted to know. Pointing in a certain 
direction he said, “The people who live over there 
are swells and they do a good deal that gets into the 
pypers, I can tell you.” 

Seeing a crowd on the sidewalk surrounding a 
SI 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


man who carried a box on the end of a pole, Jack 
asked what it was. 

“It’s a Punch and Judy," replied the driver. 
“Don’t you ’ave such things in America?” 

“I don’t know, I never saw one. And oh, I do 
want to see a Punch and Judy so much.” 

“So do I,” said Gerry. “Let’s get down.” 



The omnibus stopped at this moment and a num- 
ber of the passengers descended, the children with 
them. 

Truly the Punch and Judy show was fascinating. 
On his little stage Punch strutted up and down ask- 
ing in his fine, squeaky voice, “Where is Judy, 
where is that wife of mine? Here I’ve been work- 
ing all day and when I come home I find no supper 
prepared, no beer, no cheese, no dear cunning lit- 
52 


GERRY IS LOST 


tie red shrimps, no nothing!” Then in bobs Judy 
with, “How are you, my darling, how are you this 
evening?” 

“Don’t call me your darling,” snaps Punch. 
“You can’t starve a man to death and call him 
darling, too.” Then ensued a very brisk quarrel 
which created a great deal of merriment in the au- 
dience, and Mrs. Judy finally became so imperti- 
nent that her husband lifted his cane and knocked 
her down. On the instant appeared a policeman 
whom Punch tried to appease by saying that Judy 
belonged to himself and that he had a perfect right 
to kill her if he felt so inclined. 

At this interesting moment there was a cry of 
“Stop thief I” and the crowd, which had been grow- 
ing larger each moment, surged and swayed, and 
before she was aware of it Gerry was separated 
from her brother. She pressed through the throng, 
trying to find him, but he seemed to have disap- 
peared as completely as if the earth had swallowed 
him up. 

Gerry was inclined to cry, but was afraid of at- 
tracting the attention of a policeman, who, she 
feared, might carry her off and lock her up for the 
night. No, she would not cry, and she would very 
politely and quietly ask a policeman to find her a 
cab that would take her to the hotel. Thank good- 
ness, she had money! and she made a motion to put 
her hand on the Indian bag to comfort herself by 
its presence, when, to her horror, she found that it 
53 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


had been cut from her belt as neatly as if she had 
done it with a pair of scissors ! 

Now, indeed, did Gerry find herself confronted 
by a dire calamity! She was too frightened to cry 
and for the moment she could not even think. Four 
shillings, even bright, new ones, do not make up a 
very large sum to one who has a great deal of 
money piled up somewhere in a bank; but when it 
is all one has for immediate needs in the great city 
of London its loss becomes a very serious one. 

Jack often had read to her from David Copper- 
field^ and she remembered that David, on his way 
to his Aunt Betsy, had sold such of his garments as 
he could spare to meet the expenses of the trip, and 
Gerry gathered from the story that men who are 
willing to buy clothes in that way are fearful crea- 
tures to deal with. Then she remembered another 
of Dickens’ stories, which Jack had read to her, — 
where little Florence Dombey had fallen into the 
clutches of Mother Brown, who took her pretty 
clothes away from her and kept her in wretched 
quarters until the child was found by her friends. 
That was in London, too, she reflected, and perhaps 
not far from this very spot. 

There were some handsome houses on the next 
street which the driver had pointed out as the home 
of “swells,” as he called them, and Gerry hurried 
away in that direction, thinking she could at least 
be out of the reach of a possible Mrs. Brown. She 
was now growing more and more uneasy, for they 
54 


GERRY IS LOST 


had taken a long ride and had watched the Punch 
and Judy show for some time, and it was so late 
that the street lamps were beginning to be lighted. 
A sparkle on her hand caught her attention and re- 
minded her that she possessed something of which 
she could dispose without serious disturbance to her 
toilet. It was a ring set with a small diamond, 
which her aunt had given her two years ago, and 
which now snugly fitted the third finger of her left 
hand. 

Gerry instantly made up her mind as to what she 
would do. She would ring the door-bell of one of 
those houses occupied by rich people and ask some 
one to buy the diamond. Anybody who is not de- 
mented will recognize a bargain in a diamond ring 
offered for twenty-five cents, or its equivalent in 
English money. But for whom should she ask? To 
request an interview with “the lady of the house” 
would stamp her at once as a person who had some- 
thing to sell. The only way to do was to find out 
first the name of the family whose bell she intended 
to ring. 

“Will you kindly tell me the name of the gentle- 
man who lives in that brownstone house with the 
stone verandas?” asked Gerry of a policeman. 

“Why do you ask?” inquired the officer, eying 
her curiously. 

“Because I wish to go there,” returned Gerry 
haughtily. 

“Aren’t you a bit young to be out at this hour and 
55 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


not in a cab or anythink? Where do you live, little 
girl?” 

She began to feel uneasy. What if this big po- 
liceman should conclude to arrest her? “I am an 
American,” said she, “and we do things differently 
from what you do over here.” 

“I’m thinking you do. Miss. Well, that’s the 
town ’ouse of Lord Castlemere and ’e’s in it now if 
it’s ’im you’re wanting to see.” 

“Thank you very much,” returned Gerry with 
dignity, and running up the steps she touched the 
bell. 


CHAPTER VI 


DINING WITH THE NOBILITY 

The heavy door was opened by the most gor- 
geous personage Gerry had seen since her last visit 
to the theater. He was very tall, he wore knee 
breeches and his costume was as red as Gerry’s own, 
though his was embroidered with gold. This evi- 
dently was Lord Castlemere in his bicycle suit, and 
he looked so cold and haughty that she was afraid 
of him. She would ask for his wife, who must 
surely be more agreeable than this surly individual, 
who looked as if he felt that if he had his rights he 
would be in King Edward’s place. 

“I would like to see Mrs. Castlemere, if you 
please,” said Gerry. 

“ ’Er Ladyship, Lady Castlemere, is hengaged.” 

“Oh, but I have something to tell her which she 
will very much like to hear,” insisted Gerry, think- 
ing of the bargain she was about to offer to the lady 
in question. 

The haughty individual eyed the caller from top 
to toe. She certainly was a little aristocrat. “What 
name?” he asked. 

Gerry stepped into the hall. “You can tell her 
that Miss Geraldine Craile from the United States 
of America wishes to speak with her,” she said. . 

57 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


The very name of her country seemed somehow to 
protect her and never did it sound grander than 
when it rolled from Gerry’s lips. Standing under 
the brilliant hall-light, her eyes sparkling and her 
cheeks glowing with excitement, she looked, the 
man thought, as if the blood of a hundred presi- 
dents might be coursing through her veins. Con- 
siderably impressed, he handed her over to another 
gentleman in a garb similar to his own and who, 
Gerry thought, must be a relative of the family. 

She was now shown into a beautiful room, where 
the colors were cream and gold and where painted 
Cupids on the walls pelted each other with roses. 
Gerry took a gilded chair in the center of the room 
and spread her wide skirts about her with a good 
deal of satisfaction, for it is a comfort to be well- 
dressed when one makes a call upon a great lady, 
Gerry thought, not reflecting that with the truly 
great the matter of dress plays but a small part. 

After waiting for some moments she heard a soft 
musical voice outside accompanied by the silken 
rustle of skirts; then she beheld a being whom she 
at first supposed to be the Queen of Fairy-land. 
The lady who approached her was tall and fair 
with hair like spun gold. She was dressed in white, 
embroidered with silver, and she was ablaze with 
diamonds. A wide collar of those precious stones 
encircled her throat, the whole front of her corsage 
seemed to be covered with them, while a coronet of 
diamonds rested on her hair. This was evidently 

S8 


DINING WITH THE NOBILITY 


Queen Alexandra, and Gerry, who had risen when 
the lady entered, did not know but that she ought to 
kiss the royal hand, as was always done in the story- 
books. 

“You wished to speak with me, my child?” asked 
the soft voice. 

“I — I — wanted to see Lady Castlemere,” fal- 
tered Gerry. 

“I am Lady Castlemere.” 

Gerry’s heart sank. It was evident that this lady 
did not need any more diamonds at any price. 
Compared with the stones she was wearing, which 
flashed and gleamed like living things, the caller 
realized that her one little diamond would fail to 
attract, even at the very reasonable price of twenty- 
five cents, or a shilling in the coin of his Majesty’s 
realm. 

“I thought you were the queen,” said Gerry tim- 
idly, “and I was frightened.” 

Lady Castlemere laughed. “Because of all these 
jewels? But you need not have been afraid, even if 
it had been the queen, for she is fond of little girls.” 

There was a pause and Gerry felt that it was 
time to state the object of her call, of which she now 
felt considerably ashamed. “I am very sorry to 
trouble you,” she said. “Lord Castlemere said you 
were engaged, but I wanted very much to ask you 
something and I thought you would see me.” 

“Certainly; but you have not seen Lord Castle- 
fmere?” 


S9 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“The gentleman at the door. Isn’t he your hus- 
band?” 

“No,” the lady replied in a choked voice, at the 
same time pressing her handkerchief to her face. 

Gerry felt more and more uncomfortable. She 
wondered if the policeman was mistaken, if Lord 



“I have come to see if you would not buy this diamond ring of mine’ 


Castlemere was dead and she had touched upon a 
tender subject in mentioning his name. 

“You are from America, I think?” asked the 
other, calming herself with an effort. 

“Yes, Lady Castlemere, and,” — proceeding des- 
perately, — “I have come to see if you would not 
like to buy this diamond ring of mine. Of course 
you have a great many diamonds now, but I have 
heard Grandma say that a woman always likes to 
6o 


DINING WITH THE NOBILITY 


get a bargain, no matter how rich she is. This dia- 
mond is small but real. Mandy, our girl at home, 
had a pair of ear-rings that got dull as soon as she 
put water on them, but this stays bright all the time 
and I know my Aunt Eleanor would not give me 
anything that is not good. She does not care much 
for us, for she is an old maid and not fond of chil- 
dren, but when it comes to presents she. never 
skimps. I will sell you this ring. Lady Castlemere, 
for just twenty-five cents, which is a shilling in 
your money, and if you don’t want to wear it your- 
self you can give it to some little girl for her birth- 
day.” 

Lady Castlemere took a chair closer to Gerry 
and gazed at her thoughtfully. “My dear little 
girl,” said she, “why do you want to sell your ring 
and why do you come here at this hour, alone?” 

“You see,” explained the small visitor, “Grand- 
ma and Miss Fay went out to buy a bonnet. Jack, 
that’s my brother, and I stayed in the hotel because 
I had a sore throat. Then after Grandma and Miss 
Fay had gone my throat got well all at once and we 
thought it a great pity to stay in when there was 
nothing the matter with either of us. So I dressed 
up and we came out.” 

“But why do you wish to sell me your ring?” 

“Because somebody took my purse when we 
were looking at the Punch and Judy show, and I 
lost Jack, and I had no money to get back to the De 
Keyset Royal, which is our hotel. I picked out 

6i 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


your house because it looked as if you were richer 
than the people in the other houses and I asked a 
policeman who lived here and he told me your 
name. You know, if I had gone to a Jew, he might 
have taken some of my clothes, as that one did from 
David Copperfield; or if I had stayed on the street 
very long I might have met some one like the old 
woman who stole Florence Dombey. I thought 
surely you would buy the ring, and if you do not 
want it I don’t know what I shall do.” And the 
brown eyes filled with tears. 

“There, don’t cry, dear, I shall see that you re- 
turn to your friends in safety.” 

There was a commotion in the hall as if of an ar- 
rival; a man passed the door carrying a hat-box 
and other luggage and another man entered the 
room. He was tall and handsome, but compared to 
every one else whom Gerry had seen in this splen- 
did house he seemed almost shabby, for he wore a 
suit of gray cloth without any gold braid or any 
jewelry save a small and insignificant scarf-pin. 
Nevertheless, Lady Castlemere gave a little scream 
of delight when she saw him and ran toward the 
new arrival, who took her in his arms and kissed 
her a number of times. 

“You are resplendent!” said he, holding her off 
at arm’s length. 

“Yes, I dressed early to be ready when you came, 
for I did not want to take up any time at my toilet. 
But I am forgetting our guest. This is Miss Ger- 

62 


DINING WITH THE NOBILITY 


aldine Craile, from the United States of America, 
who fell among thieves and has called to offer to 
sell me one of her jewels that the price of it may 
defray her expenses back to the De Keyset Royal 
Hotel.” She laughingly whispered a word or two 
in his ear and turning to Gerry said, “This is Lord 
Castlemere, dear.” 

Gerry was surprised and considerably disgusted 
to find that the man who had opened the door and 
the one who had notified Lady Castlemere of her 
presence were merely servants, while the master of 
all this grandeur was dressed no better than an 
American farmer in his Sunday suit. 

The master of the house shook hands with Gerry 
in a very cordial manner, saying: “I am very 
pleased to meet you. Miss Geraldine, and I think 
the first thing to do will be to telephone to your 
friends at the hotel to assure them of your safety.” 
Leaving the room he soon returned with the in- 
formation that there was none of her party in, but 
that they would be informed of her whereabouts as 
soon as they returned. 

“My brother is on his way there, I know,” said 
Gerry contentedly. “He carried his money in his 
inside pocket, so he could not have been robbed. I 
am glad Grandma won’t have to worry about me. 
I expect she is still at her milliner’s. Grandma is 
so particular about her bonnets. She hates to have 
them too stylish, still she does not like to be entirely 
out of fashion. But she looks quite handsome when 
63 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


she is dressed up, for her cheeks are red and her 
eyes are bright, though she says they are smaller 
than they used to be because she is old. She is 
nearly seventy.” 

“She is an- aged woman to start on a long trip 
with two children in her care. But of course you 
have a maid?” 

“No, indeed. Lady Castlemere. Grandma had 
no maid but Mandy, the girl I told you about who 
has the ear-rings, and she is so green she would 
have been in the way. We have nobody but Grand- 
ma who belongs to us here, and Miss Fay, who 
writes books about kings and such things. She 
asked us on the boat if she might travel with us. 
But you wouldn’t think Grandma is too old to 
travel if you could see her. Why, she manages her 
farm and makes the people who work for her 
stand around, I can tell you! The very money that 
she is traveling with she made herself, selling cat- 
tle or something of the kind. We did not make 
ours, it was left to us by our parents and there is a 
good deal of it, I think. Grandma has enough to 
keep her comfortable, she says, but I am quite sure 
she could not afford to dress her farm-hands as you 
do your servants, and I don’t believe they would 
like it if they were asked to wear such clothes. I 
know that Joe and Jake and Bob never put on col- 
lars, except on Sundays, and even then Jake won’t 
wear a tie, for he says nobody could see it on ac- 
count of his long whiskers.” 

64 


DINING WITH THE NOBILITY 


Gerry was forgetting her grandmother’s fre- 
quent warning to her not to talk too much, and the 
relief she experienced in knowing that she was in 
safety seemed to loosen her tongue at both ends. 

Her new friends seemed to be highly entertained 
by her chatter and finally she said : “And now, if 
you please, I think I will go, because I want to take 
this gown off before Grandma comes home; she 
thinks it is too gay to wear.” 

“I requested the hotel people to call me as soon 
as your friends return,” said Lord Castlemere, 
“and then I shall ask them to permit you to dine 
with us. We are going out later and we will take 
you with us to your hotel.” 

This arrangement pleased Gerry very much, for 
she was anxious to prolong her stay in this very at- 
tractive house and to remain longer in the society 
of this delightful couple, both of whom were so 
kind to her. 

After some time Lord Castlemere was sum- 
moned from the room, then a servant came to tell 
Gerry that her brother wished to speak to her over 
the telephone. “I thought it would be Jack,” she 
remarked, “for Grandma won’t have anything to 
do with a telephone. She tried it when we were in 
New York and she talked so loud that nobody 
could understand her.” And she tripped gaily 
from the room. 

“Hello, Jack, is that you?” she asked a moment 
later. 


6s 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“Yes; Grandma wanted to be sure that you are 
all right, though the gentleman you are with said 
you were in good hands and that they wanted you 
to stay to dinner.” 

“Did she say I could stay?” 

“Yes, if they are going to bring you home. She 
asked the hotel proprietor if Lord Castlemere is 
respectable, for she says all lords are not, for some 
of them drink too much, she says. But he told her 
that this lord is A number one, or something that 
means the same.” 

“Well, I should say he is, even if he does let his 
own servants out-dress him. But how did you get 
back to the hotel. Jack ?^’ 

“I took an omnibus and told the conductor to let 
me off, or as they say here to ‘put me down’ at the 
right street. I was going to have the hotel people 
send a detective or somebody like that after you, 
but they said they had heard from you and that you 
were in good hands. You are mighty lucky to get 
out of the scrape so easy. Miss, and to be invited to 
dinner, too, just as if you had done something to be 
proud of!” 

“I couldn’t help getting lost, could I? And it is 
your fault, any way. It’s a boy’s place to take care 
of his sister, and you should have searched for me.” 

“Well, I like that! Just as if I didn’t hunt for 
you! and I should think you might have been seen 
a mile in that fiery dress. But you dodged out of 
sight somehow; I believe you did it on purpose.” 

66 


DINING WITH THE NOBILITY 


“I beg your pardon, I did nothing of the kind 
and you are envious because you are not in my 
place. Did Grandma get a new bonnet?” 

“Yes ; she wore it home.” 

“She must be pleased with it then. How does it 
look?” 

“Fine! It is a kind of red. Grandma is a bird in 
it. It has roses all over it.” 

“Goodness me ! Then I don’t think she ought to 
talk to me about this dress and she is older than I 
am, too! Wore it home! Well, I never!” 

“Say, Gerry, are you going to keep this up all 
night? I’m afraid they will be telling us to drop a 
nickel or something. Good-by. Oh, say! Grand- 
ma says to tell you to behave. Good-by.” 

Gerry was somewhat indignant at this last ad- 
monition. Just as if she did not know how to 
conduct herself! Did Grandma think she would 
forget her manners? 

A rosy-cheeked maid in a white cap and apron 
now took Gerry in charge and, putting her down 
before a mirror, brushed her hair and tied her rib- 
bon, though not so well as she could have done it 
herself, Gerry thought. “I am told to amuse you 
until dinner-time. Miss,” said the maid. “Would 
you like to see the conservatory?” 

Gerry tvas fond of flowers and she dimly remem- 
bered a conservatory in her own home, where her 
mother used to spend a good deal of time among 
her plants. But this conservatory was many times 

67 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


larger than her mother’s, and there was a large 
fountain in the center of it. There were also cun- 
ning grottoes where one could play hide-and-seek; 
there were palm and banana trees and strange-look- 
ing flowers, and the air was fragrant with the odor 
of roses and violets. In a corner, half concealed by 
trees and vines, there was a red silk hammock 
where Gerry felt it would be pleasant to lie all day 
long listening to the plash of the fountain on the 
cool leaves. 

The maid then conducted her to the grand draw- 
ing-rooms and to the picture gallery, and paused 
before a door in an upper hall to take a key from 
the pocket of her apron. 

“I was to show you this room. Miss,” she said in 
a low voice, “but you are not to mention it after- 
ward to her Ladyship, for it belonged to her little 
daughter who died five years ago.” 

It was a charming little apartment. The small 
bed was covered and hung with blue silk seen 
through folds of fine lace, the frieze was tapestry 
in which were woven elves, gnomes and nymphs, 
a continuous fairy-tale encircling the room, and the 
pictures on the wall were such as to delight the eye 
of a child. Between the windows hung the portrait 
of a blue-eyed little girl of about Gerry’s age, with 
golden hair half curling around her lovely face, 
who, from the resemblance, Gerry did not need to 
be told was the daughter of Lady Castlemere. 

“At the Hall down in the country she had a beau- 
68 


DINING WITH THE NOBILITY 


tiful suite of rooms,” said the maid, “and her Lady- 
ship keeps those locked, too, and whether she is 
down there or in town she spends a while each day 
alone in those rooms and with the thoughts of her 
only child. See, here in the nursery are her favorite 
dolls that she always brought to town with her.” 

On a toy bed lay two dolls, one of them large and 
elaborately clothed in silks and laces; the other one 
was old and battered, with one foot missing. The 
little American girl could not tell why, but the 
sight of that old doll made a lump come into her 
throat and she was glad when they were once more 
in the hall outside. 

Dinner was late, very late, Gerry thought, and it 
was eight o’clock before another scarlet creature 
announced that it was served. The visitor thought 
that the delay might have been caused by the 
scorching of some dish which had to be replaced. 

Her host, who had changed his gray suit for 
black evening clothes, gave one arm to his wife and 
his other hand to Gerry and the three went to the 
dining-room, which was a lofty apartment with a 
ceiling where beams crossed and with a dark and 
highly-polished floor. Life-size portraits of ladies 
in plumed hats and gentlemen in picturesque cos- 
tumes looked down from the walls, and behind 
each chair stood a scarlet waiter. The table was 
lighted by wax candles and decorated with crim- 
son roses, while the service was gold instead of 
silver. 


69 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“I am afraid that you were expecting company 
and that I have put you out in some way,” said 
Gerry. 

“Not at all,” replied her hostess. “I always dine 
tete-a-tete with my husband after he has been ab- 
sent from home.” 



The three went to the dining-room 


“And so, young lady,” said Lord Castlemere 
gaily, “you should appreciate the honor of being 
the only guest upon this happy occasion.” 

“Indeed, I do, and I thank you very much. Lord 
Castlemere,” was the earnest reply. 

The dinner was a grand affair, Gerry thought, 
and her hosts were very attentive to her, laughing 
at her remarks and asking her various questions 
which she answered with her usual ready tongue. 

70 


DINING WITH THE NOBILITY 


“How do you like what you have seen of our 
country, Miss Geraldine?” asked Lord Castlemere. 

“I think it is fine, and so does Grandma. But she 
is fond of visiting tombs, — I suppose because she is 
old. Now I would a great deal rather be here with 
you arid Lady Castlemere than to be standing by a 
tomb.” 

“I am glad that you find us cheerful,” he replied. 

“Of course,” Gerry went on, “it is very pleasant 
to go about with Miss Fay, who knows everything. 
She even knows who built the portico of St. Paul’s 
and said it was Indigo Jones.” 

“Inigo Jones,” laughingly corrected her hostess. 

“And she knows as much about your kings as you 
do yourselves. She says you have been pretty lucky 
with your Edwards, though the second one did not 
amount to much, but that all of your Georges were 
very poor sticks.” At this point Gerry suddenly re- 
membered that she was showing bad taste, if not 
downright rudeness, in thus criticizing their rulers 
to Lord and Lady Castlemere, and she concluded 
apologetically, “I expect some of our presidents 
have not been as nice as they should be.” 

“But not so disreputable as one of our Edwards 
and all of our Georges,” replied her host gravely, 
“and we even had a Henry whose conduct left 
something to be desired.” 

“Oh, yes, — that was the Henry who was so fond 
of being married. I have heard Grandma speak of 
him. Grandma thinks Queen Elizabeth was nice in 
71 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


some ways, though she says the queen sometimes 
acted like a cat with its back up. She didn’t talk 
that way, though, when she stood by the queen’s 
tomb, for she thought it wouldn’t look well.” 

“If either you or your grandmother should write 
a history of England I wish you would put me 
down for a copy,” said Lord Castlemere. “And 
now tell me what, of all you have seen, has im- 
pressed you most.” 

“I think it is your omnibuses, especially the tops 
of them.” 

When dinner was over a maid helped Gerry to 
put on her hat and the little girl entered the car- 
riage with her new friends, who took her to her 
hotel. “I think I was lucky to get lost, after all,” 
said she. “You see, before I met you I thought all 
the nice people in London were dead, for we visited 
the tombs of so many wonderful people ; but now I 
know that two of the very, very nicest are still liv- 
ing.” 

“Thank you,” replied Lady Castlemere, “and we 
know of a ‘nice’ little American girl who is very 
much alive and whom we are very glad to have 
met. And now here is your hotel and I must kiss 
you good-by. I am leaving the city to-morrow and 
shall not see you again, but pray be careful and do 
not go out alone in London or you may not be so 
lucky next time.” 




72 


CHAPTER VII 


IN WHICH THE TOWER IS VISITED 

When she opened the door of their sitting-room 
Gerry found a very homelike scene. The evening 
was chill and a cheerful fire burned in the grate. 
Lying on the sofa with his head resting on his 
hands and a book between his elbows, Jack was 
reading, Miss Fay was at the table writing, while 
Grandma was seated in a comfortable chair knit- 
ting. 

“Well, you are a great one!” exclaimed the old 
lady, when Gerry had kissed them all around. 
“I’ve been thinkin’ all evenin’ just what I ought to 
do to punish you and Jack for what you’ve done to- 
day. If I’d thought you’d have to be watched every 
minute, like a couple of young babies, never under 
the canopy would I have left home with you. 
When I left here it was with the understandin’ that 
you were both to stay in these rooms, wasn’t it?” 

“Yes, Grandma, but that was because I had a 
sore throat ; it got well after you left.” 

“I don’t think in all the history of medicine any 
throat ever got well quite so quick as yours did. I 
went out thinkin’ I’d left you safe, and my back 
wasn’t more than turned before you put on the red- 
dest dress you had and that was made for parties, 

73 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


and climbed like a blaze of fire to the top of an 
omnibus.” 

“It was more my fault than Gerry’s that we went 
out, Grandma,” said Jack. “I mentioned it first.” 

“I’m glad you are honest enough to own up to it. 
I can’t see how it was that something awful didn’t 
happen to both of you. London is a dreadful place 



to get lost in. But instead of anything bad happen- 
in’ Jack gets back without any trouble and Gerry is 
invited to take dinner with a lord and his wife.” 

“Then I should think. Grandma, that it must 
mean we were not intended to be punished,” said 
Gerry. 

“Oh, does it? But you will be punished just the 
same. You’ve been wantin’ candy ever since you’ve 
been here and to-day we found a place where they 
had some that was splendid, — grapes dipped in 

74 


IN .WHICH THE TOWER IS VISITED 


sugar and other things that were fine, and by the 
price I paid for it I should think sugar is a scarce 
article over here. I bought a big box of it.” 

“Oh, Grandma, how nice!” exclaimed Gerry. 
“Where is it?” 

“Just wait. I bought a big box of it, as I said, 
but when I found that you’d gone out as you had I 
just rang the bell and made a present of it to the 
man that answered it, that solemn-lookin’ chap that 
looks all the time as if he was on his way to have 
a tooth pulled. He looked surprised, for I reckon 
people don’t, as a rule, buy candy for him, but I 
was- bound not to give it to you and I didn’t want to 
throw it away.” 

Both Jack and Gerry looked quite crestfallen at 
this drastic proceeding on their grandmother’s 
part, but there was no use in grumbling, — the sol- 
emn waiter had the candy. 

“What did you have for dinner, Gerry?” asked 
the old lady after a few moments of silence. That 
was one of the beauties of Grandma; when she 
scolded she had her say out and was done with it. 
She did not nag for hours afterward. 

Quite amiably, though still sore over the loss of 
the candy, Gerry described whafshe could remem- 
ber of the menu, then as an afterthought, — “Oh, 
Grandma, and they had the cunningest little 
birds!” 

“Where? In cages?” 

“No, brought to the table to eat.” 

75 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“You don’t s’pose they could have been English 
sparrows, do you?” asked her grandmother, horri- 
fied. 

“No, Grandma, they called them something, I 
forget what, but they were not sparrows.” 

“Probably they were ortolans,” observed Miss 
Fay. “That is a kind of singing bird which is 
deemed a great delicacy, though I don’t know 
whether this is the season for them.” 

“I would as lief eat a creature with a soul as a 
bird that sings,” declared Mrs. Honeythorn em- 
phatically. 

“Might as well cat them as wear them on your 
hat,” remarked Jack. 

“Who wears ’em on a hat? I don’t. That wing I 
had last winter and which I s’pose you’re thinkin’ 
about now was most likely made out of the feathers 
of some old hen. I wouldn’t wear a stuffed bird, 
not for any money. I hope you didn’t talk that lord 
and lady clean out of their senses, Gerry,” she went 
on, turning to her granddaughter. 

“I had to answer when they spoke to me. Grand- 
ma. You wouldn’t have me sit perfectly mum, 
would you?” 

“I’m not afraid of your settin’ mum or dumb. 
What did you talk about?” 

Gerry thought a moment. “We talked about 
kings, for one thing, and I told them they had had 
one poor Edward and that their Georges had 
amounted to nothing at all.” 

76 


IN WHICH THE TOWER IS VISITED 


“Well, of all things! What did you want to 
throw that up to their very faces for, and you eatin’ 
your dinner at their table?” 

Gerry looked abashed. “I was sorry after I said 
it, but Lord Castlemere agreed with me and he said 
they had one Henry who was disagreeable, and I 
knew he meant Henry the Eighth and told him so.” 

“All of the Henrys, six of the Edwards and per- 
haps some of the Georges belonged to you as much 
as to them, if your ancestors were English, as I sup- 
pose they were,” said Miss Fay. 

“That’s a fact,” said Mrs. Honeythorn. “My 
grandmother was from York and we’ve English 
stock on both sides of the house. It’s queer how we 
forget that when we sneer at the English.” 

“We had to come from something, unless we 
were Indians,” said Jack. “Might as well spring 
from the English as anybody.” 

“I should be glad to be akin to Lord and Lady 
Castlemere,” said Gerry. “Oh, Grandma, she was 
just covered with diamonds and she had on the 
cutest little white slippers you ever saw. But Lord 
Castlemere dresses very plainly, just a black suit, 
like the one papa used to wear. I don’t see why he 
doesn’t wear a red suit with gold on it and make the 
servants dress in black. And oh. Grandma, what 
made you get a red bonnet?” 

“Me? What do you know about my bonnet?” 

“I heard it at Lord Castlemere’s.” 

“Well, if that don’t beat all I How did they know 
77 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


anything about it? How did they hear, and how 
did they know what color it was ?” 

“Jack telephoned me ; he said it was red.” 

“He had very little to do, I must say, to yell that 
kind of thing into a strange house ! And it ain’t red, 
it’s black with purple flowers. J ack don’t know one 
kind of a bonnet from another.” 

“It’s a dandy, anyhow,” said he, “and Grandma 
doesn’t look a day over twenty when she has it on.” 

“After that remark I think we’d better go to bed, 
specially as we want to go to the Tower to-morrow 
and want to get an early start.” 

As soon as a person or thing is mentioned that the 
eye has not seen the imagination says, “We must 
get this before us somehow,” and immediately goes 
to work and presents the object in its own way, 
which, as a rule, is very far short of the mark. The 
children, having frequently heard the Tower of 
London mentioned by their grandmother in her re- 
marks about the people connected with its history, 
had pictured it as one lonesome tower shooting sky- 
ward for several hundred feet, with various rooms, 
where kings and queens had been imprisoned. 

What they really saw was a mass of buildings 
which Miss Fay, quoting from her guide-book, told 
them “is historically the most interesting spot in 
England.” It stands upon the banks of the Thames 
and was built at different periods. As they stood in 
the White Tower Miss Fay told them how, over 
eight hundred years ago, William the Conqueror 
78 


IN WHICH THE TOWER IS VISITED 


came over from Normandy and defeated the Eng- 
lish people at the battle of Hastings. He put up 
numerous castles in England to show that he had 
vanquished the inhabitants; and to overawe the 
people he built the White Tower, where once had 
stood a Roman fortress. It was at first a royal pal- 
ace and fort combined, and doubtless it was here 
that William lived with his queen Matilda whom 
he used sometimes to beat with his stirrup. 

^‘I thought that nobody but a coward would beat 
a woman,” said Jack. 

“And neither would they to-day. Jack. I have 
read that when Matilda refused to marry William 
he went to her house and dragged her out by the 
hair, which rough treatment induced her to accept 
him because she said she liked a man of spirit.” 

“The women of that time must have had mighty 
queer taste,” remarked Mrs. Honeythorn. 

“It was here that poor weak Richard the Second 
gave up his crown to Henry the Fourth, who died, 
as I told you, in Westminster Abbey.” 

In the old Norman Chapel in this same tower 
Miss Fay objected to the electric light, which, she 
said, was not in keeping with the room, and Grand- 
ma remarked that the lights looked as much out of 
place as would a statue of George Washington' 
seated on a bicycle. 

Jack was greatly interested in the collection of 
old armor. Miss Fay told him that the first armor 
worn was very crude, being made of ox-hide. The 
79 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


Greeks obtained their idea of a shield from the 
shell of a tortoise and from the scales of fishes, 
while the feathers of birds also gave to man the 
idea of self-protection. 

“Here is the armor of the Earl of Leicester,” 
said Mrs. Honeythorn. “It hasn’t any coverin’ for 
the back, which shows that he wasn’t a coward, 



Jack was greatly interested in the collection of old armor 


for he didn’t expect to turn his back to the enemy. 
But I’ve read Kenilworth several times and it 
seems to me that this earl was a good deal of a 
coward when he had to face Queen Elizabeth and 
tell her of his marriage with Amy Robsart. The 
trouble with him was that he wanted to eat his pie 
and have it, too; he wanted to marry the girl he 
liked best and at the same time he wanted to be the 
husband of the queen.” 


8o 


IN WHICH THE TOWER IS VISITED 


“They used to fight with bows and arrows, didn’t 
they, Miss Fay?” asked Jack. 

“Yes, Jack, and it is said that it was the great 
skill of the English archers that won the battle of 
Agincourt. We are told that Henry the Fifth or- 
dered the sheriff of every county in England to 
pluck six feathers from the wing of each goose in 
order that they might have plenty of arrows.” 

“Had the king counted the geese first. Miss 
Fay?” asked Gerry. 

“No, Gerry, I think not; but as he was very wild 
as a boy and fond of roaming about over the coun- 
try with Falstaff and his companions, Henry must 
have known that there were a good many geese in 
England. Speaking of arms, the most cruel of all 
was the military flail. It was called the ‘holy water- 
sprinkler’ and was a shaft with an iron whip at- 
tached, on the end of which was a ball filled with 
sharp spikes, and with this the warrior beat his 
enemy to death. This weapon was used up to the 
time of Henry the Eighth.” 

“I should think that kind of thing would suit 
him exactly,” observed Grandma. 

The Tower of London is not a single turret, the 
children found, but a series of towers. 

In the Bloody Tower where the little princes 
were murdered Gerry asked: “What made them 
kill the little princes. Grandma?” 

“Because they stood between a mighty mean 
man and the throne of England. They were such 

8i 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


pretty little fellows, too! When their father died 
the older boy was about Jack’s age, and, of course, 
he ought to have mounted the throne, for he was 
Edward the Fifth. But their uncle, the Duke of 
Gloucester, had both of ’em put to death, — smoth- 
ered in this tower, — and then he was crowned 
Richard the Third.” 

“Their bones were discovered in a chest under a 
staircase of the White Tower and they were after- 
ward placed in Westminster Abbey,” added Miss 
Fay. 

Besides the two towers already mentioned, there 
are the Beauchamp Tower; the Bell Tower, where 
Elizabeth was imprisoned; the Brick Tower, 
where was incarcerated that beautiful woman. 
Lady Jane Grey, who, for ten troubled days, was 
queen of England; the Boyer Tower., where the 
Duke of Clarence, brother of Richard the Third, 
is said to have been drowned in a butt of wine ; and 
Wakefield Tower, where poor feeble-minded 
Henry the Sixth met his death. 

“Henry the Sixth was the son of Henry the 
Fifth, wasn’t he. Miss Fay?” asked Jack. 

“Yes, Jack.” 

“Then why didn’t he teach his son to be a great 
man as he was himself?” 

“Henry the Fifth died when his son was an in- 
fant, but he could not have taught him to be great 
in any case.” 

“No,” said Grandma, “that’s a thing that’s got 

82 



Whitehall, London P^g€ 82 








4 

t I 



IN WHICH THE TOWER IS VISITED 


to be born in a person. There’s everything in what 
kind of kin-folks you’ve had, I think. Now, Henry 
the Fifth had some pretty good fighters in his fam- 
ily, as well as I can make out by readin’ their his- 
tories, but he married a French woman, didn’t he?” 

“Yes, Mrs. Honeythorn. His queen was Kath- 
erine, daughter of Charles the Sixth of France, 
who was a weak-minded king.” 

“That proves what I said. You never know who 
children are goin’ to be like. Instead of takin’ after 
his father, or his grandfather or his great-grand- 
father on the English side, Henry the Sixth had to 
go and be like his French grandfather, who, as far 
as managin’ a country is concerned, wasn’t worth a 
row of pins. It’s a pity that a likely young man like 
Henry the Fifth ever married into that family.” 

“But that marriage was arranged after the battle 
of Agincourt to seal the peace between France and 
England,” said Miss Fay. “And Katherine was 
pretty, it is said, and she was good also. After the 
death of Henry she married Owen Tudor and 
founded a royal house, which gave six sovereigns 
to England.” 

“Who were they?” 

“Henry the Seventh, Henry the Eighth, Edward 
the Sixth, Lady Jane Grey, Mary, Elizabeth and 
James the First, — the House of Tudor, you know.” 

“What kin would that make Queen Elizabeth to 
the French woman?” asked Grandma. 

“She was her great-great-granddaughter.” 

83 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“Well, that was far enough back to get the 
French blood pretty well thinned out, I should 
think,” said Grandma. 

In the Wakefield Tower they stood for a time be- 
side the iron cage wherein are kept the crown jew- 
els. One of the crowns contains between two and 
three thousand diamonds. 

“Do you see that red stone in the center of it?” 
asked Miss Fay. “That is what is called a spinel, 
or uncut ruby; in some lights it looks like a live 
coal. That stone has a history of its own and could 
it talk would be able to fill a volume. In the days 
when the Moors ruled Granada both the men and 
the women sparkled with jewels, and when the 
Spanish king, Don Pedro the Cruel, captured a 
Moorish prince, he took this jewel from him. Af- 
terward, when Pedro was driven from his throne, 
Edward, the gallant Black Prince, marched into 
Castile and restored the kingdom to Pedro. One of 
the presents made to the Black Prince by the Span- 
ish king was this ruby. It was afterward worn by 
Henry the Fifth at the battle of Agincourt. Sir 
James Melville, the ambassador from Scotland, 
saw this same ruby when he was visiting Eliza- 
beth’s court; the queen showed it to him among 
other treasures in her cabinet. The ambassador 
asked Elizabeth to send either this ruby or Leices- 
ter’s picture to Mary, Queen of Scots, but Eliza- 
beth sent Mary a diamond instead. The ruby was 
supposed to banish sadness and sin from its wearer; 

84 


IN<WHICH THE TOWER IS VISITED 


but this one certainly did not banish sadness from 
the Moorish prince who first possessed it, nor did 
it render sinless the terrible Pedro.” 

Mrs. Honeythorn, who was earnestly studying 
her guide-book, now said : 

“It says here that these jewels are worth three 
million pounds.” 

“That makes fifteen millions of dollars,” said 
Jack, anxious to show off his newly-acquired learn- 
ing. 

Grandma was quite shocked to see one of the 
beef-eaters, or warders of the Tower, walking back 
and forth over the spot where so many celebrated 
people had been executed, whistling Little Butter- 
cup. 

“I should think that the recollection of poor 
Anne Boleyn or Lady Jane Grey would change his 
tune to a hymn,” she said indignantly. 

“But, Grandma,” remonstrated Jack, “you 
couldn’t expect them to be serious all the time. 
They would die of grief after a while.” 

“What makes them like beef so well?” asked 
Gerry, surveying one of the guides, whose pleasant 
rosy face certainly suggested good living. “Don’t 
they ever eat pork or chicken?” 

“The name, like a good many others on this side 
of the world,” said Miss Fay, “has come down 
from the past. Some think that the term originated 
from the custom of serving the men with rations of 
beef, while others say the word comes from hufe- 
85 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


tier, or belonging to the royal buffet. These men 
have all been soldiers and brave ones, too.” 

“Then I reckon they’ve been used to bein’ around 
where folks have been killed and that’s why they 
feel so gay here,” observed Grandma; “still, I 
think I’d go to some other spot when I wanted to 
do any lively whistlin’.” 


86 


CHAPTER VIII 


LEARNING THE NAMES OF THE BRITISH SOVEREIGNS 

From the Tower they went to an A. B. C. shop 
for refreshments. These shops are to be found all 
over London and the name is an abbreviation for 
Aerated Bread Company. They had sandwiches, 
salad and tarts, and what the children called 
“lovely pink chocolate” to drink. 

“Years ago,” said Miss Fay, as they sipped their 
chocolate, “I learned a rhyme about the Norman 
kings which has helped me a good deal and I am 
going to repeat it to you : 

“‘First William the Norman, then William his son, 
Henry, Stephen and Henry and Richard and John, 
Next Henry the Third, Edwards One, Two and Three, 
And again after Richard three Henrys we see. 

Two Edwards, Third Richard, if rightly I guess. 

Two Henrys, Sixth Edward, Queen Mary, Queen Bess. 
Then Jamie the Scotsman and Charles whom they slew 
Yet received after Cromwell another Charles, too. 

Then James the Second ascended the throne. 

Good William and Mary together came on. 

Till Anne, Georges four. Fourth William all past, 

God gave us Victoria who long was the last.’ 

“I changed the wording of that last line, for it 
was written during Queen Victoria’s lifetime.” 

87 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“Would you just as lief write that down after we 
get back to the hotel?” asked Grandma. 

“With pleasure, Mrs. Honeythorn.” 

“Then I want you children to go to work and 
learn it off by heart.” 

“But, Grandma, we ought not to study while we 
are traveling,” objected Gerry. 

“Why not, when you are travelin’ in order to 
learn something?” 

“But we can learn things out of a book any time. 
Grandma.” 

“Of course, but you want this to help you while 
you are in England. I don’t have to bribe you to 
have you do what I want you to, but as this is a 
kind of a holiday I’ll agree to buy you a box of 
candy like that I gave last night to the solemn 
waiter, if you’ll learn the lines so you can say them 
fine and glib as Miss Fay did.” 

“One of us could learn them and divide the 
candy with the other,” said Gerry, no doubt think- 
ing of J ack’s good memory. 

“No, ma’am! It’s got to be learned by both of 
you before any candy comes into this family, and 
learned well, too.” 

“You will not find it half so difficult to learn as 
it sounds,” said Miss Fay. “It is only a dozen lines, 
after all.” 

“I could learn it easier if so many of the kings 
had not the same names,” said Jack. 

“You are mistaken. Jack. So many names alike 


NAMES OF THE BRITISH SOVEREIGNS 


makes it easier. Many have worked harder for a 
box of candy than you will be obliged to do for this 
one ; could I earn it so easily I should always have 
candy on my table.” 

“Grandma,” said Gerry, “Lady Castlemere does 
not say ‘candy’ or ‘dessert,’ she says ‘sweets’ and 
‘bonbons.’ ” 

“The English laugh at us for using the word 
‘candy,’ ” said Miss Fay. 

“We could buy a box of that fine candy with our 
own pocket-money,” suggested Gerry. 

“You could, but you won’t,” said her grand- 
mother. “You’re not goin’ to get out of learnin’ 
that list of kings, and you needn’t think it.” 

On their way back to the hotel Mrs. Honeythorn 
remembered that she needed some black silk thread 
to mend a tear in her dress, and the carriage was 
stopped at a shop and, as it was beginning to rain. 
Jack was sent in to make the purchase. He re- 
mained for a long time, but finally reappeared, 
bearing his small purchase. 

“For goodness’ sake. Jack, what made you stay 
so long? Did you price everything in the store?” 
asked his grandmother. 

“The woman was coaxing me to buy some under- 
wear,” replied he. 

“Underwear! Why, you went in to get thread.” 

“Oh, yes, I bought that in the beginning. She 
called it a ‘reel’ of thread. And then she tried her 
best to have me buy two suits of underwear, which 
89 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


she said would keep me so fine and warm next win- 
ter. She talked right straight along and did not 
want to listen when I said I didn’t need it.” 

“Why didn’t you get away from her?” 

“I did not like to leave while a lady was talking 
to me, Grandma.” 



There seemed to be some argument 


When they stopped at the hotel his grandmother 
handed Jack a half-crown, which was the sum men- 
tioned in their bargain, to pay the driver, while she 
and Miss Fay and Gerry sought the entrance to 
wait for him, for it was still raining. There seemed 
to be some argument between the boy and the 
driver, and saying, “I’ll have to go out and settle 
that business myself,” Grandma raised her um- 
brella with an emphatic “click” and, holding her 

90 


NAMES OF THE BRITISH SOVEREIGNS 

skirts so that they would not touch the wet pave- 
ment, she joined the disputants. 

“Why don’t you pay him and done with it, 
Jacky?” she asked. “You are the slowest boy this 
afternoon I ever laid eyes on I” 

“I can’t help it. Grandma. He won’t take the 
half-crown.” 

“Won’t take it! ’Tain’t counterfeit, is it?” 

“He thinks he ought to have more.” 

“He does? What of it? I might get the notion 
into my head that I ought to have the biggest dia- 
mond in the king’s crown, but I don’t know of any- 
body that’s goin’ to get up in the middle of the 
night and gouge it out for me.” 

“Right is right, lydy,” said the driver sulkily. 

“Yes, and left is left, and that’s what you’ll get if 
you go back on your contract like that. Didn’t you 
promise to bring us here for that sixty-two-and-a- 
half cents piece? Haven’t you got the least little 
smidgen of a conscience? Does a person have to go 
to a lawyer and have an agreement made out and 
signed by two witnesses before it counts for any- 
thing with you? If you belong to a church, what 
would your preacher say about such doin’s?” 

She talked very rapidly and her eyes snapped. 
For a moment the man appeared bewildered then 
he said in whining tones : “You don’t think noth- 
ink about a man’s time, lydy.” 

“And you think too much about my pocketbook. 
You want all there is in it.” 

91 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“All I arsk is another bob, ma’am,” continued 
the driver sullenly. 

“Another what?” 

“One more bob, lydy.” 

“And who is this Bob when he’s at home?” 

“Which I wish to say a shillin’, ma’am.” 

“So that’s another name you’ve got for a quarter, 
is it? Anything to mix people is your motto. Now 
why should I give you another ‘bob,’ as you call it? 
Don’t you remember our bargain?” 

“Yes, lydy, I remember it well, but nothink was 
said in the bargain about a stop for a arf an hour 
on the wy.” 

“On the what?” 

“On the road, ma’am.” 

“He means at the shop. Grandma,” said Jack. 

“Well, of all things!” exclaimed Mrs. Honey- 
thorn. “Do you think it’s right to charge me extry 
because a woman of your own country and city, and 
mebby a relation, for all I know, was tryin’ to sell 
my grandson two suits of winter underwear at the 
beginnin’ of hot weather, and bein’ well raised he 
was too polite to walk out and leave her talkin’?” 

“I don’t know nothink about the woman ; I know 
wot my time’s worth.” 

“Don’t it strike you that you’re a-consumin’ a 
good deal of your time in this talk and that you 
could ’a’ pocketed your money and been half-way 
up-town by this time?” 

“When a chap ’as a family to support he must 

92 


NAMES OF THE BRITISH SOVEREIGNS 


think of everythink, lydy. My time is worth 
money, lydy.” 

“How big a family have you?” 

“There’s seven, which one is sickly and the old- 
est is thirteen and the youngest is four months.” 

“Oh, well, here’s your extry quarter then. Mind, 
I give it to you just as a present.” 

The man pocketed the money, touched his hat 
and drove away. As they entered the hotel. Jack 
ventured: “I don’t think he had a family. Grand- 
ma. I saw him grin when you were not looking.” 

“You did? Another quarter gone for nothing! 
To think of sendin’ for a spool of thread and then 
havin’ to pay for the time it takes to get out of the 
store!” 

A fire was soon kindled in the chilly room and 
Grandma soon felt so comfortable that she said she 
wished they did not have to dress and go down to 
the big dining-room. 

“Why can’t we have our dinner served here?” 
asked Miss Fay. “I, too, feel too fatigued to dress.” 

“Would they bring it here, do you think?” 

“Certainly. They will charge more for it on the 
bill, I suppose.” 

“Then let’s have it here. It will be real cozy and 
comfortable on this table and all by ourselves.” 

Anything out of the usual order always pleases 
children, and Jack and Gerry were delighted with 
the prospect of dinner in their sitting-room. 

The bell was answered by the “toothache 

93 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


waiter” as the children called him, who assured 
them that dinner could be served in their sitting- 
room at once, if they desired it. Two other waiters 
then appeared, who cleared off the large table in 
the center of the room and covered it with a white 
cloth. The meal was quietly and deftly served, and 
seemed quite homelike to the travelers. 



“Flowers for Miss Geraldine Craile," said the waiter 


“I think,” said Jack, crushing an English walnut 
with a pair of nut-crackers, “that there are plenty 
of good things about this country.” 

“So do I,” said his grandmother. “But I can’t, 
for the life of me, see why they laugh at us for be- 
in’ fond of money, and for thinkin’ too much about 
how to get it. If anybody can beat them at that lit- 
tle pastime they’d have to get up pretty early to do 
it.” 

“Come in!” cried Jack, in answer to a knock. 

94 


NAMES OF THE BRITISH SOVEREIGNS 


“Flowers for Miss Geraldine Craile,” said the 
waiter, putting a basket of fragrant violets before 
Gerry and swiftly vanishing. 

“You are getting up in the world to be called by 
your whole name with ‘Miss’ tacked to the front of 
it,” said Jack. 

A note in the bottom of the basket said that the 
flowers were from Lady Castlemere, who, upon 
leaving town, begged Geraldine to accept the bas- 
ket and its contents with her love. Under the vio- 
lets was a small box and in the box was a gold heart 
covered with turquoises and attached to a slender 
gold chain. 

“Isn’t it lovely of her to send such a pretty pres- 
ent to a stranger?” said Gerry. “I wonder why she 
likes me so well?” 

“I fancy it is because of that silent room of which 
you told me this morning,” said Miss Fay. “She is 
fond of you, not only for yourself, but because you 
are a little girl and of the same age as the child she 
lost.” 

After the waiter had carried out the last dish 
and had restored the room to its usual order J ack 
said, “Gerry, let’s go to work and earn that candy. 
Miss Fay, will you please write those lines about 
the kings for us?” 

“With pleasure. You shall each have a copy.” 

The children sat down to their task with enthusi- 
asm. 

“Now let’s see which’ll learn it first,” said their 

95 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


grandmother; “though I know pretty well who it 
will be.” 

“Which of us, Grandma?” asked Gerry, some- 
what suspiciously. 

“It will be J ack, of course. Y ou can learn as well 
as he can, but your teacher says you won’t stick to 
it. You’re too much given to wrigglin’ around and 
lettin’ your mind wander. I read in one of Mr. 
Darwin’s books where he said that when he was 
try in’ to teach a monkey and the monkey would 
’low his attention to be attracted by a fly on the 
wall, or any little thing, he would just give up try- 
in’ to teach him. And it may be that you’re stupider 
than Jack, for all I know.” 

It is not pleasant to be compared to a monkey, 
and Gerry was considerably nettled. “I am not one 
bit more stupid than Jack, Grandma,” said she. 
“And he is two years older than I, too. I can learn 
just as quickly as he can, — you will see.” 

“Then go to work and prove it. Miss Fay wants 
to write and I am going to read, so when you’re 
ready you can let us know.” 

“One moment, my dear Mrs. Honeythorn,” said 
Miss Fay. “Please, please won’t you call me 
‘Phil’? That ‘Miss Fay’ is so very formal and I am 
so fond of you all.” 

“I know you asked us to call you by your first 
name in the first place, and now we’ll begin it. 
Children, this is not Miss Fay but Phil.” 

“Thank you,” said she, smiling, “and now, chil- 

96 


NAMES OF THE BRITISH SOVEREIGNS 


dren, you may go on with your study of the Nor- 
man kings.” 

The children began to study very earnestly, Jack 
on the sofa and Gerry at the table. “I know one 
line,” said the latter in a short time, “ ‘First Wil- 
liam the Norman and William his son.’ ” 

“Pooh, that’s nothing!” said her brother. “I 
knew that one right away. But I’ll bet you can’t 
say the next line.” 

“I can, too,” she replied recklessly. “ ‘Henry 
Stephenson and Henry — ’ ” 

“That isn’t right.” 

“It is tool” 

“Look and see.” 

“His name was Henry Stephen; it is pretty 
nearly the same, it will do.” 

“But you’ve got to get a man’s name exactly 
right. You can’t smear it over like that. How 
would you like it if somebody would call you 
Gerry Craileson and when you would object would 
say, ‘Oh, it will do’? You wouldn’t like it at all.” 

“Well, he isn’t here, anyway. He’s been dead a 
good while, I expect.” 

“That is just like a girl 1 You won’t argue a thing 
out fair and square; you beat about the bush.” 

“What is the matter with you two?” asked their 
grandmother, closing the book on her finger and 
surveying the children over the top of her glasses, 
while Phil paused in her writing. 

“Why, Gerry got the name of one of these kings 

97 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


wrong, and when I told her about it she said it 
didn’t make any difference because he had been 
dead so long.” 

“That’s no way to learn history,” said their 
grandmother. “You’ve got to get a king’s name 
just right, whether he’s been dead two days or two 
thousand years. I’m readin’ now about a king that’s 
been dead a long time, Charlemagne his name was, 
and it would be easier for me to call him ‘Charlie 
Smith,’ but I don’t do it.” 

“I didn’t say it just that way. Grandma, and I 
don’t think it was such a terrible mistake, after all. 
His name was Henry Stephen and — ” 

“What king was that?” interrupted Phil. “It is 
evidently one of whom I never have heard.” 

“Well, it’s here in your own writing. Miss Fay,” 
said Gerry, reading, “ ‘Henry Stephen and 
Henry.’ ” 

“Isn’t there a comma between the Henry and the 
Stephen?” 

Gerry looked again. “Yes, Miss Fay.” 

“And on your copy, too. Jack?” He was forced 
to acknowledge that there was a comma. “You 
know what a comma means. They were two differ- 
ent individuals, of course.” 

“And all this argyment for nothin’,” said their 
grandmother. “Now see if you can’t keep still a 
while and try and fix your minds on what you’re 
learnin’.” 

There was quiet for twenty minutes. 

98 


NAMES OF THE BRITISH SOVEREIGNS 


“I know six lines and that is half of it!” ex- 
claimed Jack loudly. 

“Let’s see if you do,” said his sister. “Put down 
your paper bottom side up and repeat them.” 

J ack began : 


Tirst William the Norman then William his son, 
Henry, Stephen, and Henry and Henry and John, 
Then Henry the Third, Henry One, Two, and Three, 
And again after Richard three Henrys we see. 

Two Henrys, Third Richard, if rightly I guess, — ’ 

“I don’t know the lines myself,” said Grandma, 
interrupting, “but it seems to me there’s a lot of 
Henrys.” 

“Of course there is!” said Gerry contemptuously. 
“He is so anxious to get the rhymes right that he 
doesn’t stop to see what goes before them.” 

“You can’t get them right yourself yet, and I 
know it,” said her brother. 

“I haven’t said that I could. But when I do try 
to say them I shan’t put in a thousand Henrys.” 

“Then you’ll put in Richards, or Edwards, or 
somebody that will be just as bad.” 

“I beg your pardon, I shall do nothing of the 
kind.” 

“That’s enough,” said their grandmother. 
“Don’t keep on tryin’ to see who’ll get the last 
word.” 

There was silence for a half-hour, when Gerry 
said, “I can say it. L OF C, 

99 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


‘‘ ‘First William the Norman then William his son, 
Henry, Stephen and Henry and Richard and John, 

Two Edwards, Third Richard, if rightly I guess, — ’ ” 

^^Ha! ha!” laughed Jack. “You put in one Rich- 
ard then you call the next one a third Richard. I 
knew you’d get it wrong. Now let me say it.” 

“No, I’m going to say it myself. I wouldn’t have 
made that mistake if you hadn’t grinned at me. 
Don’t let him db that, Grandma.” 

“Jacky, you stand behind her chair so she won’t 
see you,” said Grandma. “Now give me your pa- 
per, Gerry, and I’ll see if you get it right.” 

So Gerry began once more : 

“ ‘First William the Norman then William his son, 
Henry, Stephen and Henry and Richard and John, 

Next Henry the Third, Edwards One, Two and Three, 
Then again after Richard three Henrys we see. 

Two Edwards, Third Richard, if rightly I guess. 

Two Henrys, Sixth Edward, Queen Mary, Queen Bess. 
Then Jamie the Scotsman and Charles whom they slew. 
Yet received after Cromwell another Charles, too. 

Then James the Second ascended the throne, 

Good William and Mary together came on. 

Till Anne, Georges four. Fourth William all past, 

God gave us Victoria who long was the last.’ ” 

“Good!” said her grandmother. “Not a Henry 
or a Richard missin’ and not one too many.” 

“It was very well done,” said Phil. “Now, Jack, 
let us hear what you can do with it.” 

Jack repeated the lines correctly until he arrived 

100 


NAMES OF THE BRITISH SOVEREIGNS 


nearly to the end when he stumbled slightly over 
William and Mary, but recovering himself fin- 
ished triumphantly. 

“Now keep that in your minds and try always to 
remember it,” said their grandmother. “I wish I 
had learned it when I was a child, instead of Mary 
Had a Little Lamb, which never has been of the 
least bit of use to me.” 


CHAPTER IX 

SHAKESPEARE’S FAIRY STORY 

The next morning, after hearing the children 
say over the rhyme of the Norman kings to be sure 
that they really knew it, Mrs. Honeythorn said 
that they were now entitled to the candy, but that 
she could not remember where she had bought the 
other very tempting box which she had given to the 
waiter. Fortunately Phil had not forgotten; so the 
children were made happy by as delicious a box of 
bonbons as could be found in all London. 

It rained day and night for a week and not one 
gleam of sunshine did the great city see in all that 
time. The members of our little party were 
obliged to go about in closed carriages, while the 
streets seemed to be one vast flock of umbrellas. 
They visited the British Museum, the National 
Gallery and various places where they could stay 
indoors, and one day they went to a matinee, which 
amused the children vastly because of the tricks of 
the performing animals. There were a number of 
small dogs which danced the ballet and skirt- 
dances in the most remarkable manner; and there 
was a monkey who did all sorts of trapeze perform- 
ances, and, failing in one, was whipped for it, the 
children knew, as they could hear his squeals com- 


SHAKESPEARE’S FAIRY STORY 


ing from behind the scenes. Then two dogs, dressed 
to represent an old man and his wife, were sitting 
at the table taking dinner in the most dignified 
manner. They were waited on by a cat, dressed 
as a maid in apron and cap, who carried in the 
dishes without so much as venturing a taste, — an 
act of self-denial which Jack and Gerry thought 
very remarkable in a cat. 

“A cat is not likely to want to eat out of an 
empty dish,” said Grandma. 

“I am sure there was food in the dishes. Grand- 
ma, for I could smell it,” asserted Gerry. 

“What kind of food, for instance?” 

“Why, cream and — ” 

“If you can smell cream you are a curiosity, and 
ought to be with a show yourself.” 

Jack and Gerry were now so well acquainted 
with the names of the English sovereigns that if 
one of them was mentioned one or the other would 
immediately repeat the names which followed. As 
they were going to visit the Blue Coat School, Phil 
said : “This school was established for poor boys 
by Edward the Sixth.” 

“Queen Mary, Queen Bess,” capped Gerry. 

“Right,” said Phil; “they came after him, and 
they were his half-sisters. Dear little Edward was 
the idolized son of Henry the Eighth, whom he 
succeeded. He was very different from his burly 
father and was kind and gentle to all. You remem- 
ber I pointed out to you one of his French composi- 
103 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


tions in the British museum, and there was but one 
mistake, though the subject was' not one that would 
now be given to a child.” 

“I hope you children haven’t forgotten your 
French,” said Grandma. “Do you think you can 
talk it all right when we get to France?” 

“I don’t see why not. Grandma; we know it as 
well as we do English,” replied Jack. 

“You are lucky to have learned it early in life, 
which is the best time to learn a language,” said 
Phil. 

“Their mother and father were just crazy about 
French,” said Grandma. “They both studied it 
after they were married and had French servants in 
the house. The children had a French nurse, and 
they learned her lingo before they did English, 
which I don’t think was very patriotic. Then they 
had a governess from Paris and recited all their les- 
sons in French. Their aunt was very particular 
that they shouldn’t get out of practice, and while 
they lived with me I sent ’em to town twice a week 
to talk to a Frenchman there, though I used to be 
afraid sometimes he would kidnap ’em, he had 
such a snaky look about the eyes. It don’t seem to 
me to be a language that has much sense to it, and 
even their Bible sounds frivolous. I got Jack to 
translate some of it to me one day, where Satan said 
he’d been promenadin’ up and down in the world, 
which you can’t find in our Bible, and the names 
don’t seem to belong to the Scriptures at all.” 

104 


SHAKESPEARE’S FAIRY STORY 


“But, Grandma,” said Jack, “it is what the 
names of the people are, and they sound all right 
to the French people.” 

“Mebby they do, but they’re frivolous, just the 
same. Now, what did you say is the French for 
Peter, Jacky?” 

“Pierre.” 

“Pair,” repeated the old lady, pronouncing it in 
her own way. “That sounds like a nickname 
to me.” 

“But it is the French for rock, just as the name 
signified originally,” said Phil. 

The boys of the Blue Coat School — which the 
English pronounce “Blooket” — were most capti- 
vating in their quaint costumes, long blue coats 
and yellow stockings, — a style of dress which has 
not changed in three and a half centuries. The 
boys go bareheaded winter and summer. “And it 
don’t hurt ’em a bit,” observed Mrs. Honeythorn. 
“I never saw healthier little fellows and their hair 
is as thick as can be. I think it would be well for all 
school-boys to go bareheaded, in America as well as 
England.” 

“It may be that a bare head is good for the 
brain,” said Phil, “for this school has turned out 
some gifted men.” 

The sulky London sky once more deigned to 
smile, and Grandma was busy with fresh plans. 
“Let’s go to-day to a place that I know Miss Fay 
has been wantin’ to see from the first,” said she. 
lOS 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“And I must confess I’m anxious to see it myself,” 
Grandma conscientiously added. 

“And that is Stratford-on-Avon, Shakespeare’s 
first and last home,” said Phil. “You are right, 
Mrs. Honeythorn, I was really growing uneasy 



So they set forth on a very pleasant journey 


lest something should happen to prevent my seeing 
it at all.” 

So they set forth on a very pleasant journey. 
First they went to Oxford, with its many halls 
and colleges, where Jack said he was going some 
day. He said he would choose Christ College, 
where he was sure of getting something good to 
eat, for he knew that huge fireplace must have 
been made with a view to cooking great dinners. 

At Oxford they took a carriage and whirled 
io6 


SHAKESPEARE’S FAIRY STORY 


comfortably along to Stratford-on-Avon, the home 
of England’s greatest poet. 

. “Shakespeare lived a long time ago, didn’t he, 
Phil?” asked Jack. 

“Yes, Jack, he lived during the reign of your 
grandmother’s favorite queen, Elizabeth, who en- 
couraged all kinds of learning.” 

“Indeed she did I” said the old lady. “Folks 
never had been so bright as they had to be in her 
reign. I read somewhere that when students 
played their plays before her in foreign languages 
she would hold the book and follow every word 
with those piercin’ eyes of hers, to see if a mistake 
was made; and I wouldn’t like to have been in 
the place of the man who made it, either!” 

“I wish Shakespeare had written a fairy story,” 
said Gerry. 

“He did,” replied Phil, “the prettiest fairy story 
that ever was thought of. You have probably 
heard of it; it is called A Midsummer Night’s 
Dream.” 

“Oh, please tell it to us!” cried Gerry. 

“Once upon a time,” began Miss Fay, “in the 
fair city of Athens, there lived an old man who 
had a pretty daughter named Hermia. He was 
very anxious that she should marry a young man 
called Demetrius, but Hermia loved young Lysan- 
der, and she was so determined not to yield to her 
father’s wishes that the old man took her before 
the Duke to complain of her disobedient conduct. 

107 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


The Duke was about to be married, and conse- 
quently was in a very good humor, but the indig- 
nant father put the matter before him in such a 
light that the Duke told the girl that she must 
either marry the man chosen by her father, or be 
shut up in a cloister to sing hymns for the rest of 
her life. 

“So Hermia resolved to run away from home 
and marry Lysander at the house of a relative, 
the lovers agreeing to meet in a wood near Athens. 
I must tell you that Hermia had a friend named 
Helena, who was in love with Demetrius; but 
Demetrius hated her as much as he loved Hermia, 
so you see everybody was at cross-purposes, and 
affairs were in such a tangle that somebody was 
needed to straighten them out. 

“Now, this wood was the home of the fairies. 
Those tiny people knew just why the red spots 
were put in the bottom of the cowslip and how to 
hang dewdrops on the flowers. Oberon was their 
king and Titania was the queen. When Titania 
slept, her elves guarded her and kept away snakes 
and spiders and all the things that might frighten 
or annoy her, and those elves wore cunning little 
coats that had been made from the tough wings 
of insects. 

“The fairies had a fine time in the green wood. 
They lived on honey and nectar, and when they 
were tired they curled up in the cup of a flower 
and went to sleep. But one day the tiny king and 

io8 


SHAKESPEARE’S FAIRY STORY 


queen had a falling out, and grew so furious with 
each other that when they met ‘on spangled starlit 
sheen’ they quarreled so fiercely that their elves 
were frightened almost to death, and ran to hide 
themselves in acorn cups. All this ill feeling was 
about a servant in Titania’s train that Oberon 
wanted for his own, but that the queen refused to 
give up. 

“Oberon resolved to have his revenge, and he 
called Puck to assist him in his purpose. Puck was 
the most mischievous little rascal you can possibly 
imagine. Whenever things go all wrong with me 
I always think that Puck must be running them. 
He always was meddling in other people’s affairs 
and getting a vast amount of fun out of his per- 
formances. He would slip out at night and 
frighten the village maidens; he would steal all 
the cream off the milk; he would get into the churn 
and the poor housewife would churn until she was 
ready to drop, and not a speck of butter would she 
get. He would spoil the home-made beer; he 
would mislead people who ventured away from 
home at night; in short, he made a perfect little 
nuisance of himself. So far from being ashamed of 
his pranks this small scamp is proud of them, 
and brags of them. He tells about an old woman 
who is about to sip a bowl of punch, which con- 
tains what she supposes to be a roasted crab apple 
for flavoring. The fruit proves to be Puck, who 
has taken that form and who amuses himself 
109 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


mightily by bumping against her lips when she 
tries to drink. He relates how, when an old woman 
is about to take a seat on a three-legged stool, he 
knocks it from under her and down she goes. So 
it is no wonder that Oberon sent for Puck when he 
wanted to plan a piece of mischief. 

“Oberon described a certain flower which had 
once been white, but had turned purple when 
Cupid’s arrow fell upon it. This flower, by the 
way, is said to be the pansy. Its juice, squeezed 
upon the eyelids of a person when asleep, would 
make him fall in love with whatever creature he 
first saw upon wakening, no matter how horrible 
that creature might be. Oberon, you see, wanted 
the flower for Titania, and told Puck to get it. 

“Puck promised to ‘put a girdle round the earth 
in forty minutes,’ meaning that he intended to do 
some very rapid traveling, and then vanished. 
While Oberon was waiting he saw Helena and 
Demetrius pass by. The youth was telling the 
maiden that he hated her, and the little fairy king 
pitied her so much that he resolved to help her. 
When Puck brought the flower Oberon told him to 
go where Titania slept and squeeze some of the 
juice upon the small queen’s lids, and to put some 
more of it on the eyes of a young Athenian, mean- 
ing Demetrius, for he wanted him to fall in love 
with Helena. 

“But Puck made a mistake for once, and 
squeezed the juice on the eyelids of Lysander, who, 

no 


SHAKESPEARE’S FAIRY STORY 


you know, was going to marry Hermia, and when 
he woke he saw Helena and fell so madly in love 
with her that Hermia was almost heartbroken. 

“In the meantime some very funny fellows were 
rehearsing a play in the forest. Quince, the carpen- 
ter; Starveling, the tailor; Bottom, the weaver, 
and others were learning the play to perform be- 
fore the Duke on his wedding night, and as they 
knew nothing about acting they made some very 
funny mistakes. Puck discovered this queer com- 
pany and made up his mind to have some fun on 
his own account, so he suddenly gave to Bottom 
the head of a donkey, which frightened his com- 
panions so much that they ran away and left him. 

“Bottom, who had no idea of what had happened 
to him, thought his friends were playing a trick 
upon him and, to show that he did not mind, he 
began to sing a song, opening his great mouth in a 
very comical manner. When Titania woke her eyes 
fell upon Bottom, and she immediately fell in love 
with him, for the juice of the flower made her think 
him the most beautiful object in the world. She 
called four of her fairies to wait upon him. They 
were to gather for him apricots, dewberries, green 
figs and mulberries, and for his benefit they were 
to rob the bees of their honey-bags, and they were 
to fan him with butterflies’ wings. And later she 
wanted to stick musk roses in his head and ‘kiss his 
fair large ears.’ 

“All this time the Athenian young people were 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


terribly mixed up in their love affairs and were 
boiling with wrath. Oberon heard them talking, 
and told Puck of his mistake, which the little mis- 
chief-maker rectified by squeezing the juice on the 
eyes of the right persons, which made Lysander 
love Hermia again and Demetrius fall in love with 
Helena. Then Oberon felt sorry for poor Titania, 
so fascinated with the donkey-head, and the spell 
was removed from her eyes and Bottom’s own head 
was restored to him. 

“The Duke had a gorgeous wedding, and Bot- 
tom and his friends perfarmed their play, which 
was a laughable one, and then the fairies sang their 
tinkling songs and tripped their fantastic dances. 

“So Shakespeare’s fairy story ends.” 


ire 


CHAPTER X 


THE MAGIC JUICE 

“I wish I could find that flower,” said Jack; “I 
could have a lot of fun with it.” 

“It is easy enough to find a pansy,” said Gerry. 
“It is lucky the arrow fell into it, for it is much 
prettier purple than it would have been white.” 

“There is a tiny white spot in the middle of it, 
which Cupid’s arrow did not touch,” remarked 
Phil. 

When they arrived in Stratford Jack appeared 
to be disappointed. “Why, Grandma,” said he, “is 
this little town the place where Shakespeare was 
born?” 

“Yes, of course. Did you expect to see a place as 
big as London?” 

“I don’t know just what I expected, but it was a 
place quite different from this. Why, anybody 
could have been born here!” 

“I dare say they could. But did you think that 
when a great man is born his town is all built over 
on purpose for him?” 

They entered the tiny house on Henley Street, 
where the poet first saw the light. 

“You see. Jack,” said Phil, “what a very poor 
place this is, and what a marvelous genius Shake- 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


speare must have been that, after more than three 
hundred years, people from all over the world 
should visit this little cottage just because it has 
been his home. See that old fireplace beside which 
he must have sat and dreamed, and, oh, what 
beautiful dreams he must have had!” 

“If he sat on that wooden bench he must have 
been uncomfortable,” said Gerry. “If he was a 
great man he must have been a great boy, and I 
should think his mother would have made him 
some cushions to rest against.” 

“If they were so poor,” said Jack, “she had too 
much work to do to be thinking about cushions.” 

As they came out of the cottage Grandma said, 
“I wonder which of you can tell the year Shake- 
speare was born?” Neither of the children knew. 

“I can’t remember the time when I couldn’t tell 
Shakespeare’s birthday,” said the old lady. “It was 
in a spellin’ book I had when I was a child.” 

“We did know it once,” said Jack. 

“Then you ought to know it now. I’ll give a 
prize to the one that comes within ten years of it.” 

“Fourteen hundred and ninety-two,” said Gerry, 
anxious to be the first to guess. 

“Land of goodness! That was the year America 
was discovered. Is that the only date you know?” 

Jack reflected a moment. Miss Fay had said 
“more than three hundred years,” and he did a lit- 
tle mental arithmetic. “Fifteen hundred and 
thirty,” he said at last. 


THE MAGIC JUICE 


‘‘That’s a good deal better than Gerry’s guess, 
but you are still wrong. Shakespeare was born in 
fifteen hundred and sixty- four. Now try to remem- 
ber that as long as you live.” 

Shakespeare’s tomb is in the floor of the Holy 
Trinity Church, and as they stood around it they 
were very quiet and solemn, speaking only in whis- 
pers. The children read the inscription, so quaint 
and strangfe, in which he who slept beneath begged 
that the stones be not removed and that the dust be 
left to rest in peace. 

As it was but a mile to Shottery, the home of 
Anne Hathaway, they thought it best to walk, the 
children running ahead of the others along the 
footpath. Gerry picked up an acorn cup left on 
the ground from last year. “Do you think this is 
one of the cups the fairy queen’s elves used to hide 
themselves in when they were frightened?” she 
asked her brother. 

“No, it wouldn’t last so long; besides. Miss Fay 
said all that happened in Greece.” 

“Oh, there goes a bee,” cried Phil. “He flew past 
my face. He surely is a descendant of the bees 
Shakespeare used to see when he was able to escape 
from his busy life in London to come down to his 
old home. Rogues, kings, fairies, arch-bishops, 
maidens, generals, statesmen and philosophers in 
his plays talk about bees and honey.” 

“Who was Anne Hathaway?” asked Gerry after 
they had been through the cottage. 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“She was Shakespeare’s wife,” replied Grand- 
ma, “and although I expect she was a finer woman 
than she ever got the credit for being, I always 
thought he might have done better. Eighteen is too 
young for a man to marry, anyhow.” 

The attendant gave the children some flowers 



from Anne Hathaway’s garden. “Oh,” whispered 
Gerry to her brother, “here are some large lovely 
pansies. Just the flower we want! Let’s squeeze the 
juice on somebody’s eyes.” 

“They don’t seem to be very juicy,” said Jack; 
“we shall have to soak them in water. Whose eyes 
shall we try?” 

“I don’t know. Grandma would be very angry 
if we made her fall in love, and if we put it on 

ii6 



THE MAGIC JUICE 


Phil’s eyes she might go away and marry, and we 
couldn’t spare her now, you know, for we are all 
so fond of her.” 

“Perhaps we shall see some one asleep that we 
can try it on. But the worst of it is that if we don’t 
use them to-night the juice of the flowers will dry 
up and we can’t put it on any one’s eyelids.” 

“Children,” called their grandmother, “hurry 
along. We want to get back to the hotel in time for 
five o’clock tea.” 

They were to stay in Stratford that night, and 
Jack carefully placed the pansies in a tumbler of 
water on his table, or rather, he did not put them 
in water as one usually arranges a bouquet, but put 
them in the bottom of the glass and poured the 
water over them. And it so happened that Fate was 
kind to him that night and allowed him to try the 
experiment. 

As they were about to retire. Grandma, finding 
that she had allowed her watch to run down, sent 
Jack down to the office to get the correct time. 
Earlier in the evening he had noticed the young 
woman at the desk. She was very neat and trig in 
her attire, and she wore a pair of red coral ear- 
rings, which were no redder than her cheeks. 

When Jack entered the room the girl placed her 
finger on her lip to impose silence, and, beckoning 
him to come nearer, asked him in a whisper what 
it was that he wanted. He replied, in the same way, 
that he wished to know the time of night. 

117 _ 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“It’s arf-past nine,” breathed the maid in his 
ear, and the boy wondered why so commonplace a 
matter as the time of night should be treated as a 
stupendous secret. He almost began to think that 
it would not be right to mention it to his grand- 
mother. “Is anybody sick?” he whispered. 

“ ’Ush ! Look over there in the corner.” 

He glanced in the direction indicated and 
beheld a young man asleep in an easy chair in the 
corner. The stranger was attired in what Jack 
thought must be a very fine suit. It was brown, 
with very large plaid, in which there was a good 
deal of red, and looked quite new. His tie also 
was red and he wore a yard or two of heavy watch- 
chain crossed and recrossed over his vest. With 
his low-crowned derby hat on the floor beside him 
and his round, bullet-like head resting comfort- 
ably against the back of the chair, the young man 
was enjoying what promised, if undisturbed, to 
be an all-night’s sleep. 

“What is the matter with him? Isn’t he well?” 
asked the boy. 

The barmaid tossed her head until the coral 
ear-rings trembled. 

“’Im!” she snapped, with a fine disregard for 
the rules of grammar. “ ’Im sick? Not a bit of 
it! ’E’s ’ere from London, where I used to know 
’im. ’E comes in while I am at my bit of supper 
and then ’e goes to sleep like one of the seven. 
Fine an’ hanxious ’e must be to see — anybody, to 

ii8 


THE MAGIC JUICE 


go off like that while ’e’s waiting for — anybody 
to come in. Beast!” 

Jack thought this was pretty strong language to 
use, just because a man happened to fall asleep. 

“Did he come to see you?” he asked innocently. 

“ ’Ow should I know? I ain’t supposed to know 
anything about it! I’d like to play a trick on ’im, I 
would!” 

And then Jack thought of the pansies. “If you’ll 
come out into the hall a minute I’ll tell you some- 
thing you can do,” he whispered. 

Together they tiptoed to the hall, closing the 
door gently behind them ; then the barmaid turned 
to J ack with expectation in her eye. 

“Do you know who Shakespeare was?” asked 
Jack solemnly. 

“Well, I should ’ope so! Why do you bring me 
out ’ere to ask such a question?” asked the young 
woman indignantly. 

“I beg your pardon. I did not mean to offend 
you. But he tells about a flower that you can 
squeeze on a person’s eyelids when he is asleep and 
he will fall in love with the first living creature he 
sees when he wakes. Miss Fay, who is with us and 
who knows everything, told us which flower it is 
and we picked some in Mrs. Shakespeare’s garden 
so they must be the real thing, you know. I have 
them up stairs. It would be fun to squeeze them on 
his eyes, and you could bring in a kitten for him to 
fall in love with when he wakes.” 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 

“Does it ’ave to be a hanimal?” 

“No, it doesn’t have to be an animal. I only 
thought it would be more fun. The queen Shake- 
speare tells about fell in love with a man who had 
a donkey’s head, but the young people just fell in 
love with each other. You could bring in one of 
the maids for him to get his eyes on first, if you 
like.” 

“The maids are all asleep.” 

“That is too bad! What shall we do then?” 

“Just to see ’ow the charm would work I would 
be willing to stand where ’e would see me,” said 
the barmaid, adding with a toss of the head, 
“though it wouldn’t be any honor to ’ave such a 
sleepy ’ead fall in love with me, I’m sure!” 

“That will do very well,” said J ack. “But would 
you mind letting me stay and see how he acts? I 
should not like to go to all that trouble without get- 
ting some fun out of it, you know.” 

“Oh, yes, you can look on if you like.” 

“Very well, I will bring the flowers right down. 
But I am afraid I shall have to ask you to tell me 
the time once more, or Grandma will set her watch 
wrong.” 

The girl vanished and returned saying, “It is ten 
minutes to ten. Take up this little clock for your 
grandmother to set ’er watch by and then you can 
’ave an hexcuse to come down again.” 

“I’d begun to wonder if you’d gone back to Lon- 
don to find the right time,” said his grandmother, 
120 


THE MAGIC JUICE 


who was sitting up in bed when Jack entered the 
room. “Mebby I’ll learn after a while that when 
I’m in a real hurry I’d best not pick you out to send 
on an errand.” 

“The young lady in the office was talking, 
Grandma,” apologized the boy. 

“Somebody always is talkin’ to you, J ack. You’re 
such a favorite with the women-folks that I’m 
afraid one of ’em will steal you before we meet your 
aunt. But I’m glad you’ve brought the clock up 
and I can have just the right time.” 

Grandma’s watch was large with a gold face and 
it wound with a key which made a creaky noise. 
Having wound and set it and put it to her ear to be 
sure that it was really behaving itself, she reached 
out and carefully placed it in her shoe as being the 
last place, she said, where a thief would look for a 
watch, though its loud and cheerful tick would 
have betrayed its presence to any burglar who was 
not totally deaf. 

Gerry had long been asleep in her grandmother’s 
bed, and before going down stairs Jack went to his 
room, which opened out of theirs, to get the glass 
containing the flowers. 

The children long ago had learned that it was 
difficult to keep a secret from Grandma, whose 
sharp, bright eyes saw everything that was going on 
around her, and when she asked, “What’s in that 
glass. Jack?” he replied promptly, “Some flowers I 
promised the young lady.” 

I2I 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“Flowers? Nonsense! She won’t care anything 
about that mess of stuff. Throw it out.” 

“But this is the way she wants it, Grandma, she 
wants to use it on a gentleman’s eyes.” 

“Well, I hope you and the girl know what it is 
that you want, I know I don’t,” replied Grandma, 
who had forgotten all about yf Midsummer Night’s 
Dream. “Come up as soon as you can and be quiet, 
so as not to wake me. I didn’t think it would take 
me so long to write that letter to Willis’s folks, but 
I knew that Sophy and Jane would feel hurt if I 
didn’t write to them from some celebrated place, 
they’re so awful touchy.” 

Jack found the barmaid waiting for him at the 
foot of the stairs. 

“What a time you’ve been!” she exclaimed. “I 
could ’ave set a dozen watches.” 

Thinking it rather hard that he should be re- 
proached at both ends of the line. Jack returned 
the clock and followed the huffy young woman to 
the side of the sleeping Londoner. 

The girl took her position immediately in front 
of the man’s chair, wreathed her countenance in 
smiles and clasped her hands before her as one who 
is about to have a picture taken. From the bottom 
of the tumbler Jack fished up the pansies, now soft 
and pulpy, feeling very much like a surgeon who 
is about to perform a critical operation. Then care- 
fully holding them above the eyes of his victim he 
squeezed them, a large drop of wetness falling on 
122 


THE MAGIC JUICE 


the right eye, while another following of its own 
accord dropped on the cheek of the sleeper, who 
uttered an exclamation and sat up very straight in 
his chair, while the boy retired to the shadow of 
the open dooi. 

“Polly, angel Polly!” exclaimed the young man; 
“is this a dream?” 



From the bottom of the tumbler Jack fished up the pansies 


“No, Mr. Larkens, it isn’t,” retorted the young 
woman with much twinkling of ear-rings, “though 
it might be from the way you’ve slept a whole hour 
and a ’arf by the clock. You wasn’t in any ’urry to 
see your friends, I must say I” 

“But I was dreaming of you, Polly, and I don’t 
ever want to dream of anything else.” 

Jack now felt that the magic juice was doing its 
work very well indeed. 


123 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“But wot on earth made all that wet on my face?” 
asked the young man, wiping his countenance with 
a red-bordered cotton handkerchief and looking 
somewhat suspicious. 

“Persmeration,” suggested the barmaid. 

“But ’ow could it come all at once in a splash?” 

“ ’Ow should I know, Mr. Larkens? I am not 
your guardian hangel.” 

“But that’s wot I want you to be, Polly.” 

Now, remembering his grandmother’s injunction 
to return as soon as possible. Jack slipped from the 
room. He was well satisfied with his experiment. 
While he had been at his grandmother’s home he 
had seen boys rub pebbles over their hands and 
carefully bury the little stones to cure themselves 
of warts, and he had soaked his own hair in the 
water of a hollow stump to make his locks curly, 
but no charm had ever worked so suddenly and so 
successfully as had the juice of those flowers, called 
still by some of the inhabitants of Warwickshire, 
“Love-in-idleness.” Jack hoped the young woman 
in the office would not be so cruel as to refuse Mr. 
Larkens, for he feared the consequences to the 
charmed young man, and he went to sleep wonder- 
ing how he could undo the spell in case the girl 
should prove obdurate. 

Jack’s mind was set at rest the next morning 
when the barmaid whispered to him with a giggle : 
“It’s all fixed and I’ve given notice that I’m to be 
married.” 


124 


THE MAGIC JUICE 

That day they took a carriage to Warwick and 
Kenilworth. 

“Jack,” said Grandma on the way, “I want to 
ask you something I was too sleepy to bother about 
last night. What kind of a poultice was it you and 
that girl fixed up for somebody’s eyes? How did 
you happen to have the stuff to do it with, and how 
did she know about it? I sent you down stairs to 
find out the right time and right straight you got 
on to the subject of poultices and had one all fixed 
up, just as if you’d come on purpose. How did it 
all happen?” 

“That was not a poultice. Grandma. It was 
Shakespeare’s flowers that Puck squeezed on peo- 
ple’s eyelids. I told the young lady in "the office 
about them and she said she would not mind stand- 
ing in front of a gentleman who was asleep in a 
chair so we could try them, and we did.” 

At this Phil burst into a fit of laughter in which 
Grandma joined. 

“Oh, Jack!” cried Phil, “you are certainly the 
funniest boy alive. How did the charm work?” 

“Why, just fine 1 He called her an angel as soon 
as he opened his eyes and they are going to be mar- 
ried right away. She told me so this morning.” 

“Well, of all things in this world!” said Mrs. 
Honeythorn. “Was he a stranger to her?” 

“No, Grandma, she said she used to know him in 
London and he had just come from there last night 
and fell asleep while he was waiting to see her.” 

I2S 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“Then I guess he was there on purpose to ask her 
to marry him,” said the old lady, as one who dis- 
misses a subject. But Jack was sure that the match 
had been made by Shakespeare’s flowers. 

“I dare say she expected a wedding present from 
you. Jack,” said Phil teasingly. 

“I don’t think so,” replied the boy, “I gave her 
a husband — ^which is quite enough of a wedding 
present, I think.” 


126 


CHAPTER XI 


OFF FOR FAIR FRANCE 

They alighted from the carriage at Warwick 
and strolled through the queer old streets, the nar- 
row sidewalks of which are paved with stones trod- 
den by feet at rest centuries ago. They came to the 
castle, which looks as if it might be occupied by a 
fairy princess, with its stately tower built soon after 
William the Norman came to England, and its fine 
old trees mirrored in the quiet waters of the Avon. 

“They say the present earl lives here only a part 
of the year,” said Phil. “If it were mine I should 
stay here the year round; I never should want to 
leave it.” 

Gerry admired the gilt drawing-room with its 
satin-covered furniture which looked like gold, 
she said, but Jack preferred the great hall. There, 
standing in a row against the wall, are suits of ar- 
mor which have seen many battles, and at the end 
of the room is a case of swords, each one of which 
could tell an interesting story of its own. There 
also is the punch-bowl of the famous Count Guy 
of Warwick, who lived about five hundred years 
ago and who seems to have been very partial to 
punch, if one may judge by the size of his bowl. 
And there is the mace of that Earl of Warwick 


127 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


who was called the king-maker, because he en- 
deavored to change the reigning house of England 
from Lancaster to York. 

“He was a very hospitable man, was the king- 
maker,” remarked Phil. “He owned a number of 
manors and castles in England and the people who 
lived in them, his friends, servants and guests, were 
in such great numbers that it is said no less than 
thirty thousand ate at his table every day.” 

“What terrible bills he must have had to pay!” 
observed Grandma. 

Kenilworth is five miles from Warwick, and 
Jack, who had read Scott’s charming novel, was 
surprised to see that the castle was nothing more 
than a ruin. “I thought it would be so different!” 
said the boy. 

“Did you expect to find Queen Elizabeth sittin’ 
in a high-backed chair, with the Earl of Leicester 
in a white velvet suit, and poor Amy Robsart up 
stairs in her room?” asked his grandmother. 

“After the sieges through which it has passed it 
is a wonder there is anything of it left,” said Phil. 
“This is one of the splendid presents given by 
Elizabeth to the Earl of Leicester, though he en- 
larged and improved it afterward.” 

“I expect it cost him about as much as the castle 
was worth to make things pleasant for her that 
time she visited him,” said Mrs. Honeythorn, who, 
this morning, seemed inclined to reckon up the cost 
of things. 


128 



Jack was surprised to see that the castle was nothing more than a ruin 128 




OFF FOR FAIR FRANCE 


“Yes,” said Phil, “the fetes and pageants at that 
time must have been wonderful to see. Among the 
amusements arranged for the queen was bear-bait- 
ing. An old chronicler of the time says it was very 
pleasant to see the pink-eyed bear watching the 
dogs approach, and the way the unfortunate ani- 
mal would roar and toss and claw when the dogs 
were biting him seems to have afforded much 
pleasure to the people of those days, though it 
would disgust us to-day.” 

“As far as I can make out from the guide-book 
this is the room that Amy Robsart had at that time,” 
said Grandma. 

“She couldn’t have put her head out of the win- 
dow unless she had flattened it,” said practical 
Gerry. 

That evening after they had returned to London 
our little party held what Phil called a council of 
war for the purpose of deciding what they should 
do next. “I could stay in England all summer and 
not be satisfied even then,” said Mrs. Honeythorn, 
“but I want to get down into Spain before the 
weather gets too hot and I guess it gets pretty warm 
down around the Alhambra in summer-time. So 
my notion is to go to Paris and stay long enough to 
see the main sights and then to go straight to Spain. 
Eleanor Craile writes me that she will meet us in 
Paris in September, and as she don’t seem to care 
much where we travel in the meantime, we can 
have plenty of time to look around Paris. Then 

129 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


what we missed in the first place we can see when 
we get back there again.” 

“That plan will suit me admirably,” said Phil, 
“and if you do not grow tired of me I will stay with 
you until we return to Paris.” 

“Tired of you? Why, I don’t see how we ever 
could have got along without you.” 

“Shall we leave for France to-morrow, or the 
next day?” 

“Oh, let’s go to-morrow,” cried the children, 
who, like all small folk, were always anxious to be- 
gin a journey. So a time-table was sent for, to find 
at what hour the train left for Dover, after which 
the business of packing began. The trunks were 
filled and the last key turned before they retired. 

The English Channel, which it is necessary to 
cross in order to reach Calais, is the dread of all 
travelers, being a very disagreeable body of water 
which sees fit, as a rule, to heave and swell in a way 
to make tourists wish they had remained on dry 
land ; but that day it was as smooth as glass. 

The temper of Grandma was again ruffled at 
Calais when it was necessary to inspect their bag- 
gage. “Why they should think that women and 
children should be luggin’ somethin’ around that 
they had no right to carry I can’t see,” she grum- 
bled, “and that man grabbed my camphire bottle 
as if he’d found a package of dynamite I” 

The only occupant of their compartment of the 
railway carriage was a very poorly-dressed woman 
130 


OFF FOR FAIR FRANCE 


with a shawl over her head. She had slipped in at 
the last moment as if anxious to escape observation. 
“It is strange,” said Phil, “to see a woman in her 
rank of life take a first-class carriage, where she 
must pay about three times as much as if she trav- 
eled third-class.” 

Seeming to realize the surprise of the others the 
woman murmured, “Une pauvre femme qui n’a pas 
le prix” and wrapping her ragged shawl still 
closer about her she crouched down in a corner of 
the carriage. 

“What did she say, Jacky?” asked his grand- 
mother. 

“She says. Grandma, that she is a poor woman 
who has not the price.” 

“She is takin’ a pretty expensive trip, it seems to 
me. How could she get a ticket if she has no money 
to pay for it?” 

“She need not show a ticket until she arrives at 
the end of her journey,” said Phil, “and as she is 
stealing a ride she must trust herself to the mercy 
of the official at the other end of the route.” 

“That’s gettin’ the cart before the horse, I should 
say. But we can’t expect to find things as well man- 
aged here as they are in our own country.” 

As they laughed and chatted the woman sur- 
veyed them wistfully with large mournful eyes, as 
if wondering from what kind of world they had 
come, to be so happy. About noon the train stopped 
at a station where men and boys were selling lunch- 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


eons in baskets, and it was then that J ack did one of 
those kind little acts which always endeared him 
still more to the heart of his grandmother. With- 
out saying anything about it he ordered a basket 
containing lunch for five, saying as he did so, 
“Grandma, I can, if you like, pay for the extra one 
out of my own pocket-money, but I could not take 
a bite if that woman had nothing to eat.” 

“That is right, Jacky,” said his grandmother, 
“and I am sure we all feel just as you do about it.” 

It was a very appetizing lunch of fine white 
bread, sweet butter, hard-boiled eggs, cold chicken, 
fruit, and a quart of harmless red wine in what 
Gerry called a bottle with a straw dress on. 

It is probable that their strange guest had never 
had so good a meal in her life, and she certainly 
seemed to enjoy it, while it brought a faint color to 
her pale cheeks and brightened her sad eyes. 

She told them that her only child was ill in Paris 
and that she was stealing a ride, trusting to the good 
God to protect her. She had taken a first-class car- 
riage thinking that she would be less likely to be 
observed there by the officials than in a cheaper one. 

“I’ll tell you what let’s do,” said Gerry. “Let’s 
make up the price of the ticket and give it to her 
so she won’t have any trouble when she gets out.” 

“That is a good idea,” said Phil, “we each can 
give a fourth of it.” 

So the money was counted out and laid in the 
woman’s lap with five francs extra. She thanked 
132 


OFF FOR FAIR FRANCE 


them with tears in her eyes and when leaving the 
train at Paris she called upon all the saints to bless 
them. 

“She may be one of the worst women in the 
world, for all I know,” said Grandma, “but she is a 
human bein’ and she is in trouble, and that was ah 
ways enough for me to know about anybody.” 

As they stepped from the train the confusion 
caused by many voices bubbled up about them. 

“If I was by myself,” said Grandma, “I’d be just 
about crazy with all this talk goin’ on around me 
that I don’t know a word of ; but as I’ve got three 
people to do my talkin’ for me I don’t worry any.” 

Phil, who did the managing, now looked after 
the luggage and engaged a carriage and they were 
soon rolling along the streets to the Hotel Conti- 
nental. 

“And we are really in Paris !” exclaimed Gerry. 
“I can hardly believe it.” 

“Neither can I,” said her grandmother. “When 
I was a girl nobody could ever have made me be- 
lieve I’d ever be so far from home as I am this 
minute.” 

They now passed into the courtyard around 
which their hotel was built. Some of the guests 
were seated at little tables on the porch. 

“Look at that woman over there,” whispered 
Mrs. Honeythorn to Phil; “the one in blue silk. 
She’s smokin’ a cigarette ! I don’t think this is a re- 
spectable place and I’m not goin’ to stay!” 

133 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“Do not let that trouble you, my dear Mrs. 
Honeythorn,” replied Phil. “We can not judge 
these people by our home folks. In Europe there 
are even princesses who smoke, so we must take 
them as we find them. We shall probably see it 
done everywhere on the continent.” 

They were very well satisfied with their rooms, 
which had all the modern conveniences, including 
electric lights, but the children laughed at the ele- 
vators which went up and down tremblingly as if 
afraid that something might happen to them. 

After dinner the children stopped in Phil’s 
room, which was on the floor beneath their own, 
and Mrs. Honeythorn went on to her apartment. 
When she opened the door she was greatly aston- 
ished to find a man’s hat on the bed. Thinking she 
had made a mistake she was about to withdraw 
when she noticed some of her own belongings on 
the dressing-table, which convinced her that she at 
least was in the right room. 

Going to the bell she read the translation of the 
notice above it: “Ring once for the valet-de-cham- 
bre, twice for the chambermaid and three times for 
the waiter.” Grandma rang six times and waited 
at the open door with all the electric lights turned 
on. Soon a waiter appeared. 

“Look here,” said she, “do you speak English?” 

“I spik eet von leedle, Madame.” 

“Then mebby you’ll tell me if this hat belongs to 
you?” 


134 


OFF FOR FAIR FRANCE 


“Tome! Madame! Oh, no!” 

“Then whose is it?” 

“Does eet not belong to Madame?” 

“Now see here; do I look like a woman that 
would wear a man’s hat?” 

“I vould say ees eet not of Madame’s party?” 




“No, it is not one of my party. You live here; 
now just explain how it got into my room.” 

The waiter looked under the bed and into the 
wardrobe. “I s’pose you think it belongs to a bur- 
glar,” remarked the old lady; “if so, he is pretty 
impudent to take off his hat to make himself com- 
fortable before he goes to work. I thought Ameri- 
can ones could think of more things to do than any 
other kind, but mebby yours get ahead of ’em.” 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


The waiter now looked under the wash-stand 
and under the clock and by this time the valet-de- 
chambre and the chambermaid arrived on the 
scene. The waiter made a remark to the girl, and 
receiving a reply, turned to Grandma with, “Ma- 
dame ees very, very sure that eet ees not belong to 
von of her company?” 

“I answered that question once before. There’s 
only one male member in my ‘company,’ as you call 
it, — as if I belonged to an opery troupe, — and if he 
should put this hat on, it would settle on to his ears, 
bein’ a boy of twelve.” • 

This was repeated to the chambermaid who be- 
gan to talk very rapidly, joined by the waiter and 
afterward by the valet-de-chambre in a still louder 
voice. Jack and Gerry coming in in time to explain 
it all to their grandmother. It appeared that the 
girl had found the hat in the hall and supposing 
that it belonged to the Americans had placed it on 
the bed. Being obstinate and not wishing to admit 
that she was wrong she continued to insist that she 
had put the unclaimed head-gear where it be- 
longed. 

“They look ready to tear each other’s eyes out,” 
observed Mrs. Honeythorn. “If these people can 
get so excited about a thing like that, I don’t won- 
der that they acted as they did durin’ the French 
Revolution.” 


CHAPTER XII 


SEEING THE GAY CAPITAL 

Jack, who had been reading the guide-book, said 
the next morning while they sat at breakfast : “J ust 
think of it. Grandma, we can eat our rolls and 
honey here in peace and at the same time look out 
of the window and see the spot where King Louis 
and the queen lived when they had so much trou- 
ble.” 

“That is true,” said Phil. “The palace of the 
Tuileries stood just across the street and it was there 
that the people brought Louis the Sixteenth and 
Marie Antoinette from their beautiful palace of 
Versailles. What a terrible journey that must have 
been for the royal family, accompanied as they 
were by the shrieking, threatening men and 
women ! 

“But the dear little dauphin, who should have 
been king after the death of his father, was too lit- 
tle to understand the danger that surrounded them, 
and he used to play in the grounds. I wonder that 
the hearts of his jailers did not soften when they 
saw him working at his little garden.” 

“What became of him. Miss Fay?” asked Jack. 

“He probably fell into the hands of cruel men, 
who allowed him to die of neglect and want, 
137 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


though there is a tradition that he went to America 
and lived to be an old man. I should like to be- 
lieve, if I could, that he grew up under our flag, 
but I am afraid there are no grounds for such a 
theory.” 

“As it is a fine day,” said Grandma, “it would be 
a good plan to take a drive on the Champs, what- 
ever it is, and the Boy, whatever you call it. I can’t 
get the names right and never expect to.” 

“You mean the Champs-Elysees and the Bois de 
Boulogne,” said Phil. “Yes, I think that would be 
delightful.” 

Mrs. Honeythorn made the mistake of motion- 
ing to two hack drivers at once and brought on a 
war of words which threatened to last all day, the 
two men calling each other such names as “Pig,” 
and “Heart-of-a-cabbage,” accompanying their 
words with vigorous gesticulations, shaking of the 
head and shrugging of the shoulders. To restore 
peace Grandma gave the disappointed one a franc, 
thereby soothing his injured feelings. “That’s 
twenty cents I’ve managed to get rid of without the 
least bit of trouble,” remarked the old lady as the 
driver touched the horses with his whip. 

“Here is the spot where the terrible guillotine 
was placed in 1793,” said Phil as they drove away. 
“The guillotine, children, is a machine made for 
the execution of criminals, but in those dark days 
it was used to put many an innocent person to death. 
The common people of France, after many years 
138 



On the Bois de Boulogne, Paris Page Ij8 


•/ 

y< 



SEEING THE GAY CAPITAL 


of oppression, resolved to be rid for ever of royalty 
and of the nobility, and no one was safe who had a 
drop of aristocratic blood in his veins. 

“Marie Antoinette was a beautiful Austrian 
princess, who had married the king, then dauphin, 
when she was little more than a child. 

“She never had harmed a human being in her 
life, but the people hated her and called her the 
‘she-wolf of Austria.’ The king was a good man 
though a weak one, and he was put to death on this 
spot. Nine months later Marie Antoinette also was 
executed here, as well as many others of royal and 
noble blood. The women of the time were as cruel 
as the men and looked on at the executions while 
they were knitting, and turned a stitch every time a 
head fell into the basket. At night they would 
count the stitches and rejoice at the great number 
who had gone to their death. 

“That tall monument you see there is called the 
Obelisk of Luxor. It stood before a temple in 
Egypt more than three thousand years ago, though 
it was not brought to France until a little before the 
middle of the last century.” 

During their drive out the Bois de Boulogne the 
children complained of being thirsty, and their 
grandmother proposed that they should stop at a 
pretty restaurant whose tables on a wide porch 
looked particularly attractive. The driver was 
invited to “come in and have something,” an invi- 
tation which he did not hesitate a moment about 


139 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


accepting, entering another door to take his re- 
freshments in seclusion. Lemonade and cakes were 
ordered and they remained for some time at the 
table, finding it very pleasant to watch the people 
come and go and to see the many strange faces. 
There was a wedding party, which seemed to be 
very joyous ; they were marching two and two and 
carrying wooden rods wound with red, blue and 
yellow ribbons, and all were singing in the light- 
hearted fashion of people who never have known 
a care, though they were of the working class and 
it was reasonable to suppose that they had fought 
with the problem of how to exist on limited means. 

“Ask the waiter, Jacky, if everybody who gets 
married in this country carries rods and performs 
like that,” said Grandma. And the waiter replied 
that the wands and the colors represented some 
kind of club or society to which the parties be- 
longed. 

“To look at them you would think that the 
French people never thought of anything but hav- 
in’ a good time. It’s hard to believe that they be- 
long to the same country as the women who took 
their knittin’ work out there to that Concord place. 
But for all we know that weddin’ party may be 
from some of the same families.” 

When her bill or “addition” was brought to her 
Grandma was horrified. “Why, it’s sixteen dollars ! 
And here’s some things for a dollar and a half 
apiece, though I can’t make out what they are.” 

140 



That Concord place” Page i^o 













SEEING THE GAY CAPITAL 


“It is not in dollars, but in francs, Mrs. Honey- 
thorn,” said Phil. “In American money it would 
make three dollars and twenty cents. But here are 
cold chicken and a bottle of wine and other things 
which we did not have, so they evidently have 
brought the wrong bill.” 

But the waiter declared there had been no mis- 
take. This was the bill of Madame’s party, who 
had ordered all with which she had been charged. 

“I wish I could talk his language if only for five 
minutes. If he wouldn’t get a good piece of my 
mind then I am very much mistaken,” said Grand- 
ma indignantly. “Tell him that if his memory’s so 
poor that he can’t recollect what he brought us, to 
look over this table and see if he sees any signs of 
chicken or wine.” 

This remark was put into French and the wait- 
er’s reply was translated. The ladies and the young 
gentleman had partaken of nothing but lemonade 
and little cakes; he never had asserted otherwise. 
Their part of the addition amounted to five francs ; 
the remainder of it had been ordered by Madame’s 
driver, whom the young gentleman had told him 
to serve. 

“Didn’t you tell the waiter to give him the same 
that we had. Jack?” asked his grandmother. 

“No, Grandma, I didn’t know whether he was 
fond of lemonade. Some people don’t like it, you 
know, and I don’t think it is very polite to ask peo- 
ple to take refreshments and make them take what 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


you want yourself whether they like it or not. So I 
told the waiter to give the driver lemonade, or 
whatever he liked, and to put it in your bill.” 

“Well, he’s had ‘whatever he liked,’ and has or- 
dered a meal that ought to last him twenty-four 
hours. I’ll pay it, but after this, when we take a 
driver to a restaurant, we’ll tell just how much is to 
be spent on him. Every time I’m swindled over 
here,” she went on, closing her purse with an in- 
dignant snap after parting with her sixteen francs, 
“I say to myself, ‘This will be the last time, for 
now I’ve learned a lesson,’ but every time the swin- 
dle comes in such a different way that what I’ve 
learned don’t do me one bit of good.” 

But when they were ready to start the driver was 
so good-natured, beaming as he was with smiles, 
and so ready to point out objects of interest and dis- 
tinguished people who were driving on the boule- 
vards, that the old lady was considerably mollified 
and was heard to murmur, “Poor fellow! Mebby 
he can’t have a good meal every day of his life and 
I expect he needed it.” 

That evening some friends of Miss Fay’s, who 
were staying at another hotel and who had seen her 
name among the list of American visitors, called 
and invited her to be their guest for a few days. 

“Now, children,” said their grandmother, “we 
must do some sight-seein’ by ourselves, and you’ve 
got to do all the talkin’ to outsiders, for I might as 
well be dumb for all the good my tongue does me 
142 


SEEING THE GAY CAPITAL 


in this place. There is one thing I want to see, and 
I think it is our duty to go there, seein’ all he did 
for us, and that’s Lafayette’s grave. I want to get 
some flowers and lay them on it with my own 
hands.” 

“Grandma,” said Gerry, “there is something that 
I don’t think is a bit fair, and I know you always 
want to do what is right.” 

“What is it? Out with it and ease your mind.” 

“Ever since we came to France you have asked 
Jack to do all the talking when Miss Fay was not 
by, and even when she was he did a good deal of it. 
Any one would think that I didn’t know one word 
of French, and I know just as much about it as J ack 
does.” 

“Nobody wanted to slight you, Gerry, and you 
shall do all the talkin’ for the day. I shan’t let Jack 
say one word in French if I can help it.” 

“May I manage everything connected with this 
trip. Grandma?” 

“You may.” 

“And a fine manage you will make of it,” re- 
marked her brother. 

“You have no right to say that. I can engage a 
cab just as well as any one can and I can ask ques- 
tions, too, and you will see that everything will be 
right.” 

They were standing in front of the Madeleine 
when this conversation took place. About them 
were a number of flower venders, and Gerry said, 
143 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“I will do the talking to these flower women,” and 
she asked the price of the flowers and made her 
purchase with what her grandmother called a good 
many airs. 

“We must have red, white and blue,” Gerry said, 
and she bought white roses for Grandma and red 



"Qu’elle est jolie, cette petite fille!” 


roses for herself ; the blue was furnished by a large 
bunch of forget-me-nots, which were to be contrib- 
uted by J ack. 

When the transaction was finished Gerry was 
very much pleased to hear one woman say to an- 
other, “QmV//c est jolie, cette petite fille!” 

“What did she say that seemed to make you feel 
so good?” asked her grandmother. 

144 


SEEING THE GAY CAPITAL 


“She said, ‘How pretty that little girl is,’ ” an- 
swered Gerry. 

“Anybody would look pretty to that woman that 
paid her money. Don’t be carried away by flattery.” 

Everything had gone smoothly so far, but with 
the cabman she had some trouble. Upon finding 
that he must go to the Rue de Picpus, at the extrem- 
ity of the Faubourg St. Antoine, cabby absolutely 
refused to budge. He had not breakfasted yet, he 
said; “and what would you? A man can not drive 
to the other end of the world. To go to a spot so 
distant one should be paid, not by the course, but 
by the hour.” 

“Very well, we will pay you by the hour. It 
doesn’t make any difference to us which we pay 
for,” replied Gerry, who thought it a matter be- 
neath her dignity to haggle about. So the three 
climbed into the cab and drove away. 

“It seems to me, Gerry,” said her grandmother 
after a while, “that this is a mighty slow outfit 
you’ve hired. This horse pokes along as if he was 
turnin’ somethin’ over in his mind that’s of the 
greatest importance and he’s afraid a little trot 
would knock it all out of his head. I wish you’d 
just hint to the driver that we’re intendin’ to deco- 
rate that grave to-day and not day after to-mor- 
row.” 

Gerry said something to the man which caused 
him to pull the horse to a dead stop, while Jack 
snickered. 


I4S 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“No, no! Go on, go on!” cried Gerry emphati- 
cally in French. 

They started again, going at a brisker pace for a 
few minutes, afterward lagging as before, which 
caused Gerry to utter the same word, bringing the 
cab to a standstill and causing J ack to giggle. 

“You’re not managin’ this business right some- 



Throwing himself down under a tree 


how, Gerry,” said her grandmother. “You’d better 
hand it over to J ack.” 

“No, Grandma, please! I am doing it all right. 
It is this hateful man who is acting like this to spite 
me.” She spoke to the man, which caused him to 
start his horse; then she added something, upon 
hearing which he put down the reins, climbed out 
and, throwing himself down under a tree, gazed 
serenely at the sky. 


146 


SEEING THE GAY CAPITAL 


“What did you tell him to do that for?” asked 
her grandmother. 

“I didn’t tell him to do that at all, Grandma,” 
replied Gerry, half crying with anger. “If people 
used to be as mean as he is I don’t wonder there 
used to be so much guillotining done.” 

“Well, if you know a word that will bring him 
out of this spell I wish you’d use it, for as you’ve 
agreed to pay him by the hour, sittin’ here like this 
comes high.” 

Another driver passed with a word of greeting 
for his comrade on the ground and a grin at a re- 
mark made by Gerry’s driver, but which caused her 
to exclaim indignantly, “How dare he!” 

“What was it he said?” asked her grandmother. 

“He called me a crazy little American!” 

“Well, somebody in this outfit don’t seem to be 
quite clear in their mind, — I won’t say who it is. 
Jacky, I wish you’d explain the cause of this dead- 
lock.” 

The boy, who was laughing as if he never would 
leave off, said: “Grandma, she has been using the 
wrong word. I don’t know why it is, but she al- 
ways gets "arreter’ and ‘depecher’ mixed. One 
means to stop and the other means to hurry, and she 
has been telling the driver to stop.” 

“She has? No wonder he acts so queer. Gerry, 
you ought to find out what you want to say before 
you say it. The other way’s liable to get people into 
all kinds of scrapes. Now tell him to go on and be 
147 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


quick about it or we’ll get somebody else to take us 
there.” 

Considerably crestfallen Gerry explained to the 
driver, who resumed his place and drove them at a 
fairly brisk pace to the old convent occupied by 
the Dames du Sacre Coeur. 

A round-faced, smiling old portress answered 
their ring at the convent gate. “Yes, Mademoi- 
selle,” she returned in response to Gerry’s question, 
“the Marquis de Lafayette rests in the corner of 
our garden and beside him is his wife.” 

“We are Americans,” said Gerry, “and we have 
come to put some flowers on his grave.” 

“You have the red, white and blue,” remarked 
the old woman, glancing at their flowers. 

“Yes ; they are the colors of our flag.” 

“As they are also of ours,” replied the old por- 
tress. 

Nuns clothed in white serge walked in couples 
up and down the garden which was full of trees, 
while grapevines covered the high walls which en- 
closed it. 

“On the other side of the wall are interred hun- 
dreds of the nobility who met their death during 
the Reign of Terror,” said the portress. “Among 
them are the grandmother and the aunt of Madame 
de Lafayette. One of the most pitiful incidents of 
those awful days was the sight of that old lady go- 
ing to her death in a cart, her hands tied behind her 
and the words of the rabble ringing in her ears, 

148 


SEEING THE GAY CAPITAL 


‘There is the marechale who used to go about with 
so many attendants, driving her fine coaches. There 
she is in the cart just like the others.’ ” 

“I should think French people would be 
ashamed to talk about it now,” observed Gerry 
with great frankness. 

The good-natured old woman shrugged her 
shoulders with a laugh. “And why? None of us 
was born at the time, you see.” 

“If you had been living then you would not have 
approved of such things, I know,” said Gerry, who 
was sorry that she had been so abrupt. 

“How can I tell? When people are oppressed 
and ground to the earth by tyranny they grow mad, 
mad.” 

“What is she sayin’, Gerry?” asked Mrs. Honey- 
thorn. 

“We were discussing things. Grandma. I told 
her I knew if she had lived at the time she would 
not have liked to see so many heads cut off, and she 
says she doesn’t know whether she would or not.” 

“Of course she don’t. How can anybody tell 
what they might have done over a hundred years 
ago?” 

“Every year,” said the portress, “a rich Amer- 
ican, oh but very, very rich ! brings your flag and 
puts it over the grave of the Marquis de Lafayette 
on the fete day of your country.” 

“The fete day of our country is the Fourth of 
July, of course,” said Gerry, who translated this in- 
149 


.YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


formation for her grandmother. 

“I should like to shake hands with that man,” 
said Grandma. 

Gerry now laid her red roses on the tomb, 
Grandma put her white ones beside them, and Jack 
followed with his blue flowers. Then J ack wrote 
their names on a card with the words in French, 
“To him who once helped our country, from three 
grateful Americans,” and laid it by the flowers. 

As they drove away Mrs. Honeythorn said, “I 
haven’t done anything since we left home that’s 
made me feel so good as to put flowers on the grave 
of Lafayette.” 


ISO 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE TROUBLE ABOUT GRANDMA’S PARIS GOWN 

That night after Gerry had gone to the land of 
dreams Mrs. Honeythorn took Jack into her con- 
fidence. “J acky, you are a pretty sensible boy about 
some things and I want to ask your advice,” said 
she. “How do you think it would look for me to 
get a dress in Paris?” 

“How should it look but all right, Grandma?” 
asked the boy wonderingly. 

“I am afraid that if the folks at home found out 
that I’d bought a Paris dress they’d think I was 
vain and frivolous, which wouldn’t do at my age.” 

“But the people of Paris buy their clothes here, 
and some of them are a great deal older than you 
are. Grandma.” 

“I know that, but it’s different when it’s the citi- 
zens that buy ’em. Now at home it’s considered a 
big thing to have a Paris dress, and I’m afraid that 
if I’d get one it would create talk. I know that 
Nancy Cluppins would feel hurt, for she has made 
my dresses for twenty-five years and she would tell 
all around that I felt too important to wear her 
things any more. But I don’t mind tellin’ you, 
Jacky, that I do want a Paris dress the worst way.” 

“Then I would have it if I were in your place, 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


Grandma. You certainly have a right to buy what 
you want.” 

“Do you think so, now, really? Well, I believe I 
know a place where it could be bought reasonable. 
As Phil and I went past a shop on the next street, — 
I could find the place easy enough, — I noticed in 
the window one of the triggest ridin’-habits you 
ever saw.” 

“But you don’t want a riding-habit, do you. 
Grandma?” asked Jack, astonished. 

“Goodness no! But if they could make a ridin’- 
habit so well they must be pretty sleek on dresses. 
I thought mebby we’d walk round there to-morrow 
and you could ask what they would charge for a 
dress, kind of careless, you know, just as if we 
didn’t care whether we bought it or not, but just 
wanted to hear what they would say.” 

When they called the next morning they found 
the tailor all bows and smiles. He would be pleased 
to make Madame a gown. It would make her ap- 
pear so young her friends would not know her. 

“Then tell him I don’t want it. Jack,” said the 
old lady. “I don’t want to look frivolous.” 

Oh, no, the tailor would not make Madame look 
frivolous ; she should look any way she liked. He 
was an artist, he said, and he knew what he could 
do. 

“Ask him what he would charge for a broad- 
cloth suit the color of the flowers in my bonnet,” 
said Grandma. 


IS2 


GRANDMA’S PARIS GOWN 


Jack translated. The tailor replied that he 
would make it so cheap that actually it made him 
ashamed to name the price, but Madame was an 
American and he loved Americans. The price was 
named and put into dollars for her benefit. 

“Tell him I don’t think it is so small as to be 
ridic’lous, Jacky,” said she, “but just say that if 
he’ll knock off five dollars I’ll let him make it. 
But with the understandin’, mind you, that I won’t 
take it if it don’t suit me.” 

Jack now had to do some very lively translating 
for a few minutes, from French into English and 
from English into French. Grandma was firm, 
and the man finally gave in with a groan, declaring 
that it would be his ruin, knowing full well that 
even now she would be paying him something like 
a third more than he would have asked from one of 
his own country-women. 

Now began regular employment for Jack. The 
tailor called at least twice a day to fit Grandma, 
who found many faults with his work and gave 
Jack so many directions to translate into French 
that he was obliged to carry a little dictionary in 
his pocket in which to search for words employed 
by dressmakers, the terms of which he had never 
had occasion to use. 

The tailor had a way, which was very irritating 
to Grandma, of throwing her gown over his arm 
when he called to fit it. “Why don’t he wrap it in 
a piece of paper?” she would ask. “I don’t want 
153 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


everybody in this hotel to see just what I’m havin’ 
made.” Then he would rip the seams apart and sit 
down at the window to baste them up again, as she 
said, “where everybody could see him, and for all 
the world like a woman who had come to stay to 
supper and had brought her sewin’ along.” 



‘‘Why don’t he wrap it in a piece of paper?” 


The tailor was the cause of some annoyance in 
another direction. One night one of the elevator 
men knocked at the door. He could speak a little 
English and began by saying, “I am very un’appee, 
Madame.” 

“That’s too bad,” she replied, wondering how 
much this interview was going to cost her. “I don’t 
s’pose your pay amounts to very much, but slidin’ 
up and down a buildin’ can’t be very hard work, 
154 


GRANDMA’S PARIS GOWN 


specially as you don’t hurry yourself any and don’t 
have to work nights.” 

“It is not ze work, Madame. I am to be dis- 
sharge and it is all owing to ze tailor of Madame.” 

“You don’t mean to tell me that that pesky tailor 
has been meddlin’ with you?” 

“Yes, Madame, he haf meddle, he haf come up 
in my car.” 

“Well, what of that? He ain’t poison, is he?” 

“But it is against ze rule of ze house. Trades- 
pipple come not up wiz ze guest. I tell him tree, 
four time to get out. He laugh. He go up. Ze ad- 
ministration hear and I am dis-sharge.” 

“I wish,” said Grandma, “that I had let that 
tailor stay in his shop behind his ridin’-habit, 
which I don’t believe he made, but borrowed. Why, 
I never had a dress in my life that made such a lot 
of trouble! I thought that in Paris all a dressmaker 
had to do was to look at you and that minute there 
would be a fit. But this man has tried it on me so 
much that it’s a wonder it ain’t worn out, and it 
ain’t one speck nearer a fit than it was the first day 
I had it on. And not contented with all that, he 
must go and make more trouble for me! What is 
this administration and where can I see it?” 

The man explained. “Grandma,” said Gerry, 
“let me go and tell them how it was. I was in the 
elevator at the time and I know that this man could 
not prevent the tailor from coming up as he did.” 

“Very well,” said her grandmother; “you look 
iss 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


nice and tidy, you can go along now and he will 
show you the way.” 

Gerry was wearing a light-blue dress of thin 
material very much tucked, over blue silk, with 
boots, stockings and ribbons of the same shade, 
and as she walked away with the elevator man she 



“You need not be in the least worried” 


said to him in his own language, “You need not be 
in the least worried ; I will arrange this matter for 
you.” 

“A thousand thanks. Mademoiselle,” said the 
man ; and conducting her to a large room, the door 
of which stood open, he suddenly disappeared. 

There were several men present and, advancing, 
Gerry said in her best French, “Pardon me, but 
which of you gentlemen is the administration?” 

156 


GRANDMA’S PARIS GOWN 


This question caused a smile and one of the men, 
who was dark, with a pointed beard, placed a chair 
for her with all the deference he might have shown 
to a princess. “I shall be pleased to hear anything 
that Mademoiselle wishes to say,” he replied in 
English, much to Gerry’s annoyance, for she would 
have preferred to manage the maner in French. 

“I want to talk to you about your elevator man,” 
said she, going straight to the point. “He told us 
that you had discharged him, and as it is all on ac- 
count of Grandma’s tailor she sent me to see you 
about it. She would have come herself, but she 
didn’t know that you could understand English, 
and when she is vexed and anxious to say what she 
thinks, it worries her dreadfully to be obliged to 
wait to say her next sentence until somebody trans- 
lates what she has already said, and then translates 
the answer back again.” 

Gerry paused to take breath and the gentleman 
murmured that he fully appreciated the annoyance 
of Madame the grandmother of Mademoiselle. 

“I was in the elevator when the tailor wanted to 
go up,” she went on. “There were three ladies in 
it. Your man told him that it was against the rules 
for such people as he to ride in the car, quite mildly 
at first and then very firmly, but the tailor just 
laughed and stayed in. If your man had put him 
out there would have been a fight and the ladies 
would have screamed and you would not have liked 
the racket that would have been raised, I know. 

157 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


Grandma hopes that you will forgive the man and 
take him back, and you need not be afraid that the 
horrid tailor will be here again, on our account at 
least, for Grandma would not let him make her a 
dress if he would do it for nothing. You would be 
surprised at the number of things we have not seen 
on account of her engagements with him. She has 
just sent the dress back to him, for there isn’t one 
single spot about it that fits. And you will forgive 
the elevator man, won’t you?” 

The “administration” declared that it should be 
as Mademoiselle wished and added that he was 
under many obligations to her for condescending 
to make the explanation. 

Gerry left the room very much elated at her suc- 
cess. 

“I was worried after you left the room and sorry 
that I didn’t send Jack along, too,” said her grand- 
mother. “I was afraid you would use the wrong 
word, as you did to that driver, and tell them to do 
something dreadful to the poor man.” 

“I spoke in English this time. Grandma, for he 
understood me, but I only used one wrong word the 
day we went to Lafayette’s grave and I wouldn’t 
have made that mistake if Jack hadn’t kept grin- 
ning at me. And I have managed this elevator busi- 
ness beautifully, now haven’t I?” 

“You’ve done very well, but don’t get into the 
habit of braggin’ on yourself. If you do, folks 
won’t think anything at all of what you accomplish, 
158 


GRANDMA’S PARIS GOWN 


for boastin’ of our work seems somehow to wipe all 
the gloss off of it.” 

Miss Fay came the next morning to ask Mrs. 
Honeythorn and the children to go with her and 
her friends for a ride on the Seine at two o’clock. 
Grandma accepted the invitation for the children, 
but declined for herself, saying she had something 
she wished to do. The morning’s mail had brought 
a long letter from the tailor and she wanted to an- 
swer it. “Jacky,” said she, “I want you to write his 
letter out in plain English for me and I will an- 
swer it in a way that he won’t forget.” 

“But he can’t read English, Grandma.” 

“That makes no difference ; he can get it read to 
him by somebody that knows how, just as I’ve had 
to have his letter translated for me. You wrote the 
letter in French that I sent with the dress and I 
don’t believe that you made it strong enough, or he 
wouldn’t have had the impudence to write to me 
again. You can’t put a thing as strong in that baby 
language as you can in English, and I know it.” 

Jack may have found it difficult to put the 
tailor’s thoughts into English, or possibly his mind 
was too much occupied with the thought of his 
coming pleasure trip to think of anything else, but 
his translation of the letter was by no means a 
smooth piece of work, as will be seen : 

Madame — In your letter all of reproaches you write me 
that you are not satisfied of the robe that I have made you. 

IS9 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


Permit me to tell you that she is confectioned by the exact 
model by you described. Thus it attests my book. You com- 
plain yourself that I have not employed of the lining all silk. 
It is true, but after my departure from Madame’s hotel I 
have severely reflected that a lining all silk would not see the 
end of the robe, and I have decided that it would be better to 
employ a lining half-cotton. Your robe is of a grand ele- 
gance and is exactly similar to that of Madame the Countess 
of O . She has eaten money. If I make always of af- 

fairs like that there, I shall be obliged one of these four 
mornings to put the key under the door. The robe returns 
to me at 400 francs, I give it to you at the unbelievable sum 
of 300 francs ! 

If I make always of such counts what plume that will take 
out of my wing! No, do not complain yourself, your robe 
has a finish perfect, the blow of the needle of the good maker 
and all at nothing. 

It is given what! But what is promised is promised, I 
guard my parole and do not search you chicanery for an 
augmentation. (‘Tf a common tailor talks like that,’’ mused 
Grandma at this point, 'T wonder what kind of language the 
president of the Republic uses?”) 

Four hundred francs is the stroke of a whip, it is not 
worth the pain of speaking two times in the house of people 
rich as Croesus. As to me it is different. When your friends 
see that robe which gives you the air of a big seal they will 
make me the command of a complete for themselves, finally 
to have the same charm and finish that you have, Madame, 
in a robe that you criticize, but which is a chief of work gone 
out of my shop. 

Hoping, Madame, that you will deign to agree my respect- 
ful salutation, J. Vaugiraud. 

To this Grandma replied: 

160 


GRANDMA’S PARIS GOWN 


Mr. J. Vaugiraud : 

Sir — That dress is enough to make any woman ''complain 
herself/^ as you call it. If you think it is pretty for a back 
seam to run off sideways like a branch railroad, all I can say 
is that I am sorry for you and will invite you to come to 
America and see my old dressmaker Nancy Cluppins at 
work, for whatever you could say of her dresses they are al- 
ways straight in the back. 

If your customer the countess eats money I would keep it 
to myself in your place, for it shows that she is out of her 
mind and would be satisfied with any kind of clothes. 

I don't recollect that I ever pined to look like a big seal 
or any other kind of an animal, so you can't wheedle me that 
way. 

I am just like you in one thing, I have "severely reflected" 
and I wouldn't take the dress at any price. As you broke 
your word about it from first to last, I should say that you 
haven't any need to begin to worry about your wings. 

Yours truly, 

Araminta J. Honeythorn. 

Addressing this letter Grandma posted it herself 
with great satisfaction. She was wont to say that 
she was ^‘not much of a talker,” but that she ^^could 
write a letter that went straight to the inside of 
things.” 

When Phil returned to the hotel the tailor’s let- 
ter with Jack’s translation were shown to her. ^^Oh, 
Jack,” said she, ^‘for a boy who speaks French as 
well as you do this is a very poor piece of work. 
You should know that the line, ‘she has eaten 
money,’ refers to the gown which he claims cost 
him a great deal to make. And he does not mean 

i6i 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


that it would make your grandmother look like a 
big seal; grand cachet means aristocratic.” 

'‘I think,” observed Gerry, “that the mistakes 
Jack made are a good deal worse than what I said 
to the cabman the day we went to the Rue Picpus.” 

“If Jacky made so many mistakes I expect my 
letter must have puzzled that tailor a good deal,” 
mused Mrs. Honeythorn, “but he’s such a swindler 
I don’t much care what he thinks. ■! don’t believe 
he made that trig ridin’-habit bangin’ in his win- 
dow, but just borrowed it of somebody for an ad- 
vertisement. Well, mebby it was vain of me to want 
a Paris dress and I guess I’d better stick to Nancy 
Cluppins.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


WHERE KINGS AND QUEENS HAVE LIVED 

The palace of Versailles, with its mirrored gal- 
lery, its elegant salons and its pictures, was most at- 
tractive to the children as they wandered through 
its many rooms. Miss Fay told them of the enor- 
mous sums of money which had been spent in lay- 
ing out the grounds and in building the palace, and 
how thirty-six thousand men were at work at it at 
one time. 

“This was in the days of King Louis the Four- 
teenth, who always was magnificent in his expendi- 
tures and who even slept gorgeously, as is proved 
by his splendid bed which you have just seen.” 

The grounds at Versailles are as interesting as 
the palace, and Miss Fay had told the children at 
breakfast about Little Trianon and its garden with 
the hamlet, where the fair young queen Marie 
Antoinette and her ladies used to play at being 
peasant women, and where, in the little dairy, may 
still be seen the marble slab upon which the queen 
molded butter. 

“It was just as we children play when we pre- 
tend things,” said Gerry, “and it must have been 
lots of fun.” 

In opening her mail after their return to the 

163 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


hotel, Phil had apparently found something to in- 
terest J ack and Gerry, for she said : 

“Here, children, is some printing which I or- 
dered done in London for you and which has just 
arrived. You seemed to enjoy your verses about 
the English sovereigns so much that I had printed 
on this stiff cardboard some verses I made about 
the French kings. I could not get them, in a nut- 
shell, as the author of the other rhyme managed 
to do, nor can you conveniently commit them to 
memory, but they will do to refer to sometimes, if 
you ever find yourself puzzled.” 

The rhyme was entitled The French Kings from 
Charlemagne to the Revolution, and ran as fol- 
lows: 

The praises of Charlemagne chroniclers sing, 

A prudent, a wise and a merciful king. 

Next Louis the First called Le Debonmire, 

Then Charles le Chauve, who had lost all his hair. 

Louis the Third and Carloman prove 
The beauty and sweetness of brotherly love. 

Then came Charles le Gros, who cared but to eat. 

And so in all battles he suffered defeat. 

Next Charles le Simple, a name which implies 
That he who bore it was not very wise. 

Next Louis the Fourth, called d’Outre-mer, he 
Who came to his kingdom “from over the sea.” 

164 



The dairy at Little Trianon Page i6j 










WHERE KINGS HAVE LIVED 


And after him came the unhappy Lothaire, 

Killed by Emma, his consort, so fickle and fair. 

Then Louis the Fifth, with whose life’s brief span 
Ended the dynasty of Charlemagne. 

Then came Hugh Capet, then Robert his son, 

‘The best of our kings,” was the title he won. 

Next Henry the First. The chevaliers bold 
Wore first in this reign their spurs of bright gold. 

Next Philip the First ; in his time was displayed 
The first crimson cross of the early crusade. 

Two Louis came next, le Gros and le Jeune; 

The latter was like a grim monk on the throne. 

Then Philip the Second ; then Louis his son 
Continued the rule that his sire had begun. 

The Ninth Louis followed, called Saint Louis, he 
Whose noble heart throbbed with a sweet charity. 

Next Philip the Third, then Philip le Bel, 

Of whose beauty and grace all chroniclers tell. 

Louis, Philip and Charles, all young, fair and bold, 

Passed quickly away like a tale that is told. 

Next Philip of Valois, then came his son John, 

Who, for his great kindness, was surnamed le Bon, 

Next came Charles le Sage, then followed the reign 
Of poor Charles the Sixth, who was weak and insane. 

Next came Charles the Seventh, whose prospects were dark 
Till brightened and strengthened by Joan of Arc. 

i6s 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


Then was Louis Eleventh the scepter to hold, 

Superstitious and cruel, vindictive and cold. 

Then came Charles the Eighth, who reigned a few years ; 
Louis Twelfth, at whose death all France was in tears. 

The first Francis followed, accomplished and gay. 

Art and science reviving under his sway. 

Henry Second, then Francis, a delicate boy. 

Who found Marie Stuart his comfort and joy. 

The reign of the youth Charles the Ninth quickly past. 

Came Henry the Third, of the Valois the last. 

Next came the Fourth Henry, he of Navarre, 

So charming in peace and so daring in war. 

Small honor to France did his son Louis bring. 

For a cardinal ruled the country and king. 

Then Louis Fourteenth, who was surnamed ''The Great,’’ 
Who said, and with reason, "/ am the State !” 

Then came his great grandson ; ’tis well understood 
Of Louis Fifteenth we know little good. 

Next Louis Sixteenth, who paid a dear price 
For the sins of his house — his life’s sacrifice. 

^‘The Capetian dynasty began with Hugh Cap- 
et,” said Phil, ^^and that is why the people called 
Marie Antoinette hhe Widow Capet,’ taking from 
her her title and making her one of the common 
people.” 

“There are no queens here,” said Gerry, looking 

i66 


WHERE KINGS HAVE LIVED 


over the lines. “Didn’t you think women worth 
mentioning, Miss Fay?” 

“I certainly should have mentioned them had 
they ruled,” laughed Phil, “but you must know that 
France had what is called the Salic law, which 
prevented the scepter from falling into the hands 
of a woman ; but, nevertheless, women have had a 
great deal to do with the government of the coun- 
try, as you will understand when you are older 
and read more of its history. Some of them had a 
good and some of them a very bad influence over 
the destiny of France. For instance, Blanche of 
Castile, the mother of Saint Louis, was a noble 
woman and as regent ruled with great prudence 
and wisdom until her son was fourteen. But it was 
a woman, Madame de Maintenon, who caused 
Louis the Fourteenth to revoke the Edict of 
Nantes, which means that he rendered null and 
void the permission given by Henry of Navarre to 
the Huguenots to worship God in their own way. 
The Huguenots, thus driven out of the country, 
were industrious people, weavers, spinners and 
manufacturers of various kinds, and their depar- 
ture was a great loss to France, for their industry 
now went to enrich other countries.” 

Although the stay of our party in France had 
been a short one, they had managed to see a good 
deal. They had been to the wonderful picture gal- 
lery of the Louvre, they had visited the old church 
of St. Germain I’Auxerrois, where the bell had 
167 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


rung as a signal for the massacre of Saint Bartholo- 
mew on that terrible night in 1572, when Catherine 
de Medici stood at the window by the side of 
Charles the Ninth, her weak son, to watch the 
slaughter of the Huguenots. They had seen the 
Invalides, under whose gilded dome rests all that 
is mortal of the great Napoleon; they had visited 
the cathedral of Notre Dame and had seen its 
treasures of rich vestments and jewels; they had 
been to St. Germain-en-Laye, where Louis the 
Fourteenth was born; the church of St. Denis, 
where, for more than eleven centuries, the rulers 
of France were entombed, and they had “done” 
other places of interest. 

In addition to all these places of historical in- 
terest the children had made frequent visits to a 
certain pastry-shop, where the finest tarts in the 
world — or so they believed — were to be obtained. 

“And now that we have but one more day,” said 
Phil, “I vote that we spend it at Fontainebleau.” 

This motion was carried unanimously, and the 
following morning found them on the train ready 
to begin their two hours’ journey. 

“This town has a history of its own,” observed 
Phil as they passed through Melun. “According 
to the guide-book it was captured by one of Caesar’s 
lieutenants, and from that time has witnessed many 
battles. The last one to capture it was Henry 
of Navarre.” 

“Jacky,” said his grandmother, “do you recol- 

168 


WHERE KINGS HAVE LIVED 


lect the verses your Aunt Eleanor wrote about 
Henry of Navarre for you to speak at school?” 
“Yes, Grandma.” 

“I wish you’d say ’em for Phil.” 

So J ack recited : 

’Twas when the Fourth Henry was ruler of France 
A peasant was riding to Paris one day, 

And soon on the highway encountered by chance 
A rider who also was going that way. 

The stranger was stately ; he managed his horse 
With ease and with grace that long habit will bring;, 

It was, though unknown to the peasant, of course. 

The pride of the people, their much-beloved king. 

And as his companion was heedful and kind, 

The peasant talked glibly of all that transpired 
At home, and of how when on Sunday he dined 
A fowl graced his board, as King Henry desired. 

'To see our good king, ah, how pleased would I be ! 

My family, too, would for ever be proud 
If he should ride by, if our king I should see ! 

But how should I know him in all of that crowd?’’ 

"In Paris I know there is ever a throng,” 

And Henry’s dark eyes shone with mischievous gleam, 
"Whenever the sovereign passes along. 

But still you may realize your loyal dream. 

"The people will shout and men’s hats will come off. 

And then, friend, your king may you know at a glance. 
For he who of all fails his head-gear to doff 

Is he whom you seek, is the king of fair France.” 

169 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


They entered the city and shouts rent the skies 

Of, ‘‘Long live the king V Hats were tossed in the air. 
The peasant observed with a look of surprise 

On seeing the stranger his plumed hat still wear, 

‘'Why, all hats are oif, sir, except yours and mine ! 

This riddle to solve is no difficult thing. 

For faith I will wager a flagon of wine 

That ’tis you, sir — or I — who must be the king !” 

“That is one of the most delightful incidents 
connected with the history of Henry of Navarre,” 
said Phil, “and I, for one, believe that it really 
happened. That mention of the fowl for dinner 
refers to the fact that Henry expressed a wish that 
every one of his subjects could have a fowl on his 
dinner-table on Sunday. The story of the king and 
the peasant goes on to say that Henry laughed 
heartily when the man said that one of them must 
be the king; then he said, ‘I am he,’ and he took 
the peasant to the palace, where he allowed him 
to see the little dauphin, afterward Louis the Thir- 
teenth. Henry was greatly beloved by his subjects, 
and it is said that should you to-day show his pic- 
ture to any of the common people they would ex- 
claim, ‘That is our Henry Fourth!’ ” 

To go through all the rooms of the palace of 
Fontainebleau makes a real journey in itself. 
Grandma was most interested in the apartments of 
Napoleon the First. “Here is the cradle of the lit- 
tle King of Rome,” said she. “We’ve seen his pic- 
ture when he was a baby, and a sweeter little fel- 

170 


WHERE KINGS HAVE LIVED 


low never lived. How proud his father was of 
him, too! It seemed that Napoleon had got every- 
thing he wanted, and even this baby was all that 
a child should be. Then suddenly things took a 
turn the other way, and luck went straight against 
him, and we’ve seen in the other room a table 



Sometimes they preferred to walk, plucking flowers 


where he signed a paper to give up what he had 
worked so hard to get. When you build up your 
mind and your character you’re always sure of 
what you’ve got, but you’re never certain of any- 
thing else.” 

After luncheon they engaged a carriage and 
rode through the forest of Fontainebleau, but not 
all over it by any means, for it measures fifty miles 
around. Sometimes they preferred to leap from 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


the carriage and walk, plucking wild flowers 
whose ancestors had perhaps bloomed for the dash- 
ing Francis the First, the builder of the palace, for 
the good Henry the Fourth, the magnificent Louis 
the Fourteenth and the gloomy and ambitious Na- 
poleon. But a pleasant day can not last for ever, 
and before they realized it the time had come to 
dine and return to Paris, later to pack up and be 
off for sunny Spain. 

As they sped southward through the heart of 
France there was none to share their compart- 
ment, so Phil, with the aid of rugs and wraps, 
prepared a couch for Mrs. Honeythorn, on which 
she declared herself as comfortable as on her own 
lounge at home. Their luncheon, which they had 
bought before leaving Paris, was an unusually 
good one, and they gave what remained of it to 
two hungry children whom they saw sitting for- 
lornly together at a small station. 

“It is a great pity,” remarked Grandma, “that 
you children don’t know any Spanish, though of 
course you are pretty young to know more than 
one language besides your own. But I found out 
one thing in France, and that was that it’s mighty 
handy to know the lingo of a country that you’re 
travelin’ in.” 

“Could you teach us some words. Miss Fay?” 
asked J ack. 

“I will teach you any words that you want to 
know, J ack.” 


172 


WHERE KINGS HAVE LIVED 


“Then what is the Spanish for the mouth?” 

“Z/<? bocca^ 

“And the eyes?” 

“Loi ojos^ 

“And the nose?” 

“£/ narizr 
“The finger?” 

“£/ dedoP 

“I can remember that,” said Gerry, “because it 
belongs to wall-paper.” 

“Pronounced, but not spelled the same way,” 
said Phil. 

“How do you say teeth?” went on Jack. 

“Look here, Jacky,” interrupted his grand- 
mother, “do you expect to talk to the Spaniards 
about your mouth, your eyes, nose and fingers?” 

“I don’t think I shall. Grandma.” 

“Then why don’t you learn something that 
there’s some sense to? I mean that will be of use 
to you while you are there? Learn how to count 
and how to say, ‘How much do you ask for this?’ ” 
“You are right, Mrs. Honeythorn,” said Phil. 
“You have more practical common sense than any 
of us. Let us learn to count by all means.” 

So she began to teach them to count and how to 
pronounce the numbers, and it was not long before 
they could count up to twenty, and after that, as 
every one knows, it was not difficult to go to a hun- 
dred. 

“And now,” said Phil, “when you wish to know 
173 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


how much anything costs it is only necessary to say 
^cuanto,' and they will tell you how many pesetas 
you must pay for it. A peseta is about equal to the 
franc or twenty cents, while a peso is a dollar. 
Now, Gerry, I have some beautiful dolls to sell, 
and I speak only Spanish ; you are anxious to own 
one of the dolls and you want to know the price 
of it. What would you say?” 

“Well, I would pick up the prettiest doll that 
you had and I would say, ‘Cuanto?' ” 

“And I should reply, ‘‘Viente y ocho pesetas.' 
How much would that be?” 

“I know,” said Jack. 

“If you do, keep it to yourself,” said his grand- 
mother. “She asked Gerry, you know.” 

“Twenty-eight pesetas,” cried Gerry trium- 
phantly. 

“Right,” said Phil, and she went on asking them 
questions regarding Spanish numbers, which they 
answered with great credit to themselves and to 
their teacher. 

That night after dinner at Bordeaux Grandma 
remarked that, so far from knowing any foreign 
languages, she found that she could not understand 
a good many people who spoke English. “That 
English woman who sat on the other side of me at 
the table talked all the time and I couldn’t under- 
stand a good deal that she said. For instance, there 
was a kind of meat I didn’t know about, and I 
asked what it was. She said, ‘I think it is cahve- 
174 


WHERE KINGS HAVE LIVED 


sade.’ I wouldn’t eat any of it after that, and I’ve 
been tryin’ to figure out in my own mind ever since 
what it could be. There ain’t such a terrible va- 
riety of meats that civilized people eat, and I’ve 
been tryin’ my best to think what kind of an animal 
it was.” 

“She meant calf’s head,” said Phil. 

“I wonder why she didn’t say so, then,” mused 
Grandma. 


CHAPTER XV 


A STRANGE PURCHASE 

“And now,” said Phil, as they took their places 
in the train, “when next we step from this car it 
will be on Spanish soil.” 

“ ‘The land of garlic and guitars,’ ” said Jack. 

“Where did you get that, Jack?” asked Phil. 

“It is in a song I’ve heard.” 

Entering the country, as they did, from the 
north, the sensation of actually arriving in Spain 
was an odd one. At the last station everything had 
been French; at this one the door of the railway 
carriage was opened by a blue-bloused fellow who 
said, ^'Si, Senorita,” to the query if it was necessary 
to change cars, and lo! everything was Spanish. 
The franc must now give place to the peseta, for 
they were in the realm of his catholic majesty Al- 
phonso the Thirteenth, called but a few years ago 
by his loving subjects “^/ chiquito rey^' or the baby 
king. 

As they were crossing the Pyrenees Gerry ex- 
claimed : “Why, they are pulling up into the sky, 
for there are clouds beneath us!” And there below 
the mountain-tops was a delicate sheen of silvery 
clouds, so vapor-like that a breath of air might 
blow them away. 

176 


A STRANGE PURCHASE 


“Those clouds may fain if they feel like it,” said 
Jack; “they couldn’t hurt us even if we were out- 
side.” 

Phil said: “It was in these mountains that 
Henry of Navarre was sent by his wise old grand- 
father to spend the first years of his life, to live on 
black bread and goat’s milk with the peasants and 
to breathe this invigorating air, thus laying the 
foundation for a fine constitution so necessary for 
the formation of a strong and vigorous character. 
In the days of chivalry the knights of France and 
England used to cross these mountains to proclaim 
that the ladies of their countries were the most 
beautiful in the world.” 

“Why did they do that?” asked J ack. “It was not 
very polite.” 

“It was just to raise a fight,” said his grand- 
mother; “for that was what they were fonder of 
than anything else in the world. And it was about 
all a man could do to make a name for himself. 
He couldn’t make a fortune, for it wasn’t genteel 
to work, and not many people wrote books, so he 
just had to dash around and run his sword through 
other men in order to get himself noticed.” 

“Would the Spaniards fight the other knights 
when they talked like that. Miss Fay?” asked Jack. 

“Indeed they would. No Spanish knight would 
admit that the women of his land were not more 
beautiful than the fairest of other countries, and 
they defended their claim in the tournament. 

177 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


Those were the days of chivalry, Jack, when 
women were idolized, and here they were looked 
upon as angels long after other nations had taken 
them down from their pedestals and put them in 
the corner with the broom.” 

“Would the women stay in the corner with the 
broom when they were put there. Miss Fay?” 
asked Gerry. 

“No, you literal child. I am afraid I was talk- 
ing above your head. What I meant to say was 
that when the other nations began to think that 
women were only mortals after all, Spain was still 
looking upon them as superior beings. And in the 
days of chivalry women realized their power. It 
is told of one that she made the man who wanted 
to marry her take a vow to wear an iron collar in 
public every Thursday.” 

“Men have changed a good deal since then,” re- 
marked Grandma. 

For some unknown reason the train stopped for 
more than an hour in a small and uninteresting 
town, and the passengers alighted and walked up 
and down to rest themselves. It was here that our 
Americans made the acquaintance of two of Al- 
phonso’s subjects. A small girl was seated on a 
stone with her baby sister in her arms, surveying 
the strangers with wondering eyes. She was mis- 
shapen and rather repulsive in appearance, but the 
baby was very pretty, with large dark eyes under 
curling lashes and a merry, dimpled little face. 

178 


A STRANGE PURCHASE 


Her white slip was neat and clean, and altogether 
she was very attractive. 

“What is your baby sister’s name?” asked Phil. 

“She is called Engracia, Senorita,” replied the 
girl. 

“That is a long and unhandy name,” remarked 
Grandma, when the question and answer had been 
translated. 

“I suppose you love her very much?” went on 
Phil. 

“Not very much,” returned the girl indiffer- 
ently; “there are too many of us, and the little ones 
make too much trouble.” 

“But you would not sell this one for the world, 
would you?” 

“Yes, I would.” 

“She says she would like to sell the baby,” ex- 
plained Phil. “Isn’t it horrid that she should feel 
that way, when the baby is such a dear? Just look 
at those dimples and those cunning little feet!” 

“Cwflw/o.?” asked Gerry, pointing to the baby. 

“Trcj pesetas'’ replied the girl promptly. 

“Oh, Grandma!” cried Gerry, “I can talk Span- 
ish ! I asked her how much she would take for the 
baby and she says three pesetas.” 

“That’s something like sixty cents, as I under- 
stand their money,” said Mrs. Honeythorn. “It’s 
cheap enough for a baby.” 

“Poor child!” said the tender-hearted Phil. 
“They say the children of the lower classes in this 
179 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


country are obliged to carry their little brothers 
and sisters about until their strength is broken 
down.” 

“She does look forlorn,” said Grandma; “I am 
going to give her sixty cents, since that seems such 
a big sum of money to her. It won’t come amiss in 
that family, I think.” 

Gracias (thanks), Senora,” said the child, seiz- 
ing the three silver pieces in her claw-like fingers. 

“I wish I could get a cup of coffee or tea while 
we’re waitin’,” said Mrs. Honeythorn. 

“Let’s go into the station; perhaps they have it 
there,” said Phil. 

“I don’t want anything to drink,” said Gerry; 
“let me stay here and play with the baby until you 
come back. Grandma.” 

“Very well, but don’t stray away from this spot,” 
replied her grandmother, who soon disappeared 
within the door of the station accompanied by Phil 
and J ack. 

Gerry was very fond of babies, and, sitting down 
on the stone beside the Spanish girl, she reached 
out her arms to the baby, who came to her with a 
little gurgling coo. The girl rose and said a num- 
ber of things, Gerry had no idea what, as there was 
no question of counting, which was the extent of 
her acquaintance with the language of the country. 
Then she said some more things and took herself 
off, soon returning with a little red hood and a yel- 
low cloak, which she put on her small sister, and 

i8o 


A STRANGE PURCHASE 


with a few more words, accompanied by a shrug of 
the shoulders, she again disappeared. 

“She is afraid you will take cold, I expect,” said 
Gerry, cuddling the baby, “and now perhaps she 
has gone to bring you a cup of milk.” 

Engracia made some remark like “Agoo, agoo,” 
which means the same in Spanish that it does in 
English, and Gerry had been playing with her for 



some time, when the station bell rang, which was 
the signal for the passengers to get aboard and be 
quick about it, too. Phil and Jack came running 
out of the station, followed by Grandma, who cried, 
“Come, Gerry; hurry up.” 

Every one was going as rapidly as possible 
toward the train, and Gerry was looking around 
for some place to put the baby, when a tall man 
swooped down upon Engracia and picked her up, 
exclaiming, as he did so : 

i8i 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“Come, little girl, there is no time to lose. You’ll 
be left behind!” 

Gerry ran to the wrong compartment at first, 
then Phil called to her with her head out of the 
window of their own ; Gerry climbed in, the man 
followed with Engracia, and the train moved off. 

“This is certainly the queerest country to travel 



in that ever was heard of,” grumbled Mrs. Honey- 
thorn. “They ought to have, told us when they in- 
tended to start, but I think they like to see folks 
scramble around.” 

At this moment Grandma was very much sur- 
prised to find a baby deposited unceremoniously 
in her lap, while the stranger said, “I hope it is 
none the worse for our hasty departure.” 

Gerry, who had been too breathless and excited 

182 


A ‘STRANGE PURCHASE 


to explain to the man about the baby, now remained 
silent from fear of a scolding from her grand- 
mother, hoping matters would smooth them- 
selves and that the gentleman would bear the brunt 
of the blame, which she felt he deserved to do. 
None of the three recognized Engracia in her 
wraps, and they thought that the man who brought 
the baby into the car was making himself quite at 
home to hand his baby over to Grandma so sud- 
denly and in so matter-of-fact a way, though he 
raised his hat and bowed politely as soon as he was 
rid of his burden. 

Grandma, who liked babies, patted the little 
hack of Engracia, who now was exerting all her 
strength to pull the window-strap out by the roots. 

The gentleman, who was an American, took a 
magazine from his pocket and began to read, seem- 
ing to forget the baby’s very existence. 

This Grandma considered, as she afterward ex- 
pressed it, “a little bit too cool,” and she inquired 
dryly, “Where is this child’s mother?” 

“I can’t say, I am sure,” he replied, looking 
somewhat astonished. “She is probably in another 
compartment.” 

^^Probably,' repeated Mrs. Honeythorn indig- 
nantly. “Don’t you know where she is? She may 
have been left at that town.” 

“I will telegraph from the next station regarding 
her, if you wish me to do so, providing she is not on 
the train,” said he, closing his magazine and be- 
183 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


ginning to look interested, though at the same time 
he looked a little perplexed. 

’Tisn’t for me to say what your duty is,” said 
Grandma, releasing the strap from the clutches of 
Engracia, who was trying to swallow it. 

“That is true,” he returned mildly; “I will tele- 
graph or do anything else that I can do in the mat- 
ter, but let us not worry until we are sure that she 
missed the train.” 

Engracia had again taken possession of the strap, 
and again Grandma released the fat little fingers, 
saying as she did so, “A baby of this age thinks 
everything under the canopy was made to eat!” 

Engracia resented this continued interference 
with her affairs and gave an angry little squeal. 
Grandma took the small person up and handed 
her to the gentleman, saying, “I guess you’d better 
take it. It is used to you, and babies as a rule don’t 
like strangers.” 

“Used to me?” said the stranger, staring. “Why, 
I never saw the child in my life until I carried it 
into the car. Doesn’t it belong to your party?” 

“Goodness no! I thought it was yours.” 

“Grandma,” said Gerry, who was considerably 
frightened, “don’t you know what baby it is? It is 
Engracia.” 

“So it is,” said Phil, leaning over to get a good 
look at the baby’s face. “I did not know her with 
her wraps on. Gerry, what does this mean?” 

^‘What on earth made you bring the child aboard 
184 


A STRANGE PURCHASE 


the train with you?” asked her grandmother be- 
fore Gerry had time to reply to Phil’s question. 
“Haven’t you the least grain of common sense?” 

“I didn’t intend to bring her into the train, 
Grandma,” replied Gerry, half crying. “I was 
looking around for a place to put her, so her sister 
could find her when she came back, when this 
gentleman came along and picked her up and 
brought her here.” 

He colored and looked embarrassed. “I cer- 
tainly had no intention of doing anything of the 
kind,” he murmured. “I mean I had no idea of 
taking the child where it did not belong. This lit- 
tle girl was holding it and I thought it was of the 
same family and assisted her, as I thought, merely 
to make myself useful.” 

His countenance was so rueful that they all burst 
out laughing, and he finally laughed with them. 

“Well, this is a serious matter,” said Mrs. 
Honeythorn at last; “here we’ve a strange baby on 
our hands, and we don’t know what to do with it. 
Gerry, this is all your fault. How did you get the 
child away from her sister?” 

“I wanted to hold her a while. Grandma; she is 
so cunning, and the girl brought her cloak and 
bonnet and then went away. I don’t know why she 
did not come back again, for I did not understand 
what she said when she started.” 

“Oh, I think I have the solution of the mystery,” 
said Phil. “Gerry asked the little girl how much 
185 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


would buy the baby, and she said three pesetas. 
Mrs. Honeythorn gave her just that amount, and 
she thought the bargain was concluded, for she is a 
half-witted creature.” 

“That’s it,” said Jack, “and. Grandma, this is 
your baby, for you bought and paid for it.” 

“This is very annoying to all parties concerned,” 
said the gentleman, “and we must try to find our 
way out of the difficulty. But first I must introduce 
myself.” He produced a card which read, “Rever- 
end Charles Edgar Winchip, Boston.” 

“I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Winchip,” said 
Mrs. Honeythorn, “but I can’t say that I’m glad 
that you’ve saddled us with this baby.” 

Engracia, no longer having the fascinating strap 
to distract her attention, was now beginning to real- 
ize that she was getting over the ground rather 
more rapidly than she had been accustomed to do’, 
and, seeing that none but strange faces surrounded 
her, after a brief stare of round-eyed amazement, 
began to cry. 

“Dear me, this is dreadful,” said the minister. 
“My satchel is in my own compartment, else I 
might give it an orange.” He jingled a bunch of 
keys before her eyes, but they were treated with 
scorn, and Grandma said, “Didums want somefin 
to eat? It shall have it; so it shall.” 

“She doesn’t understand anything but Spanish 
baby-talk, you know. Grandma,” said Gerry. 

“Well, you mark my words, she’ll understand 

i86 


A STRANGE PURCHASE 


this,” replied Mrs. Honeythorn, and, handing the 
baby to Phil to hold. Grandma took from her 
satchel a bottle of cold tea, which contained a good 
deal of milk, poured some of it into a cup, and after 
adding sugar, she held it to the baby’s lips. The 
draft was eagerly swallowed. 

“She was hungry, so she was,” said Phil, and 
Engracia, as if weary of trying to understand the 
cause of this sudden change in her surroundings, 
went to sleep in Phil’s arms, her long black lashes 
sweeping her flushed cheeks. She was then gently 
put down at the end of the seat, where she con- 
tinued to enjoy the sweet slumber of babyhood. 

“It wouldn’t be very pleasant if they’d arrest us 
for kidnappin’ a baby,” said Grandma uneasily, 
after a few moments of silence. 

“My dear Madam, you need give yourself no 
uneasiness,” said Mr. Winchip, “for I shall speak 
to the guard at the next station and will give him a 
sum of money to see that the infant is conveyed 
back to its parents.” 

“Do you speak Spanish?” asked she. 

“I regret to say that I do not.” 

“Then you’ll have a pretty hard time tryin’ to 
explain anything so complicated as this is.” 

“I shall be pleased to be Mr. Winchip’s inter- 
preter,” said Phil. 

“Thank you very much. Miss — ” 

“Miss Fay,” said Grandma. “I am Mrs. Honey- 
thorn, and these are my grandchildren.” 

187 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


Gerry, who was kneeling on the floor and hold- 
ing one of Engracia’s dimpled hands, said: 
“Grandma, can’t we keep this baby? She is so 
lovely I can’t bear to give her up.” 

“You must recollect that she probably has a 
mother who is just about crazy by this time, for 
it’s a very strange mother who is willin’ to spare 
one of her children, no matter how many she has.” 

“But if the little girl thought we intended to buy 
the baby she must have told her mother and her 
mother must have seen her take the baby’s wraps.” 

“Very likely the mother was busy and knew 
nothing about it,” said Phil. 

“She has a string around her neck,” said Gerry; 
“I am going to see what is on it.” 

Fastened to the string was a triangular object, 
which Catholics call Agnus Dei, and which they 
wear as a charm against lightning and other un- 
expected ills. “That shows that somebody loves her 
and wants to protect her from harm,” said Phil. 

“I am going to tie something else to this string 
that her mother will find when she sees her again,” 
said Gerry. She searched in her grandmother’s 
satchel for scissors and a needle and thread, after 
which she fashioned a little bag out of the end of 
a ribbon, into which she slipped a peseta. “Now, 
Miss Fay,” said she, “won’t you write on this slip 
of paper in Spanish, ‘To buy a present for the 
baby’?” 

Phil complied, and the paper also was put in the 

i88 


A STRANGE PURCHASE 


bag, which was tied to the string beside the Agnus 
Dei. 

At the next town a guard was called, to whom 
Miss Fay explained the circumstances connected 
with the carrying oS of Engracia. There was not 
much time for talk, but upon being given a gold 
piece the man agreed to send her home on the 
next train north, which was due within the hour. 
The town was so small that everybody would know 
to whom she belonged, he said, and there would be 
no difficulty about her safe arrival at home. So 
they bade adieu to Engracia, who, still sleeping, 
did not know when she parted from her new ac- 
quaintances, and Mr. Winchip, who had been the 
chief mover in this exciting scene, now sought his 
own compartment, after politely inquiring if there 
was anything he could do for Mrs. Honeythorn 
or the young people. 

“And now, Gerry,” said her grandmother, “let 
that be a lesson to you not to hold strange babies. 
But, dear me, what is the use of my sayin’ that? 
Of course the same thing won’t happen to us again, 
but somethin’ else will, and our experience in one 
thing don’t seem to do us one bit of good in what 
happens next, for it’s never like what took place 
before. The only thing we can do is to be on a 
kind of general lookout and be always on the watch 
for something that might accidentally get us into 
trouble.” 


189 


CHAPTER XVI 


IN BURGOS AND MADRID 

It was night when their train glided into Burgos, 
an old city wherein have occurred many interesting 
events connected with the history of Spain. They 
drove at once to the best hotel, which was by no 
means an attractive one. At dinner our party sat at 
a long table in a dining-room, the floor of which 
had been rubbed with an oil having a most un- 
pleasant odor. The food. Grandma declared, “was 
not fit for a Christian to eat,” though the children, 
who were blessed with healthy appetites, managed 
to make a satisfactory meal. 

Their bedrooms were large and gloomy, lighted 
as they were by candles, and each one contained 
two large beds draped with heavy hangings. “I 
never saw such pillows in my life!” grumbled 
Grandma. “I don’t believe they’re stuffed with 
anything in this world but ropes. I wonder if 
these Spanish people ever heard of such a thing as 
feathers? I don’t like the looks of this hotel, any- 
how, and I don’t feel safe.” 

Phil came into the room occupied by Grandma 
and Gerry, in a tea-gown, with her long hair hang- 
ing in two braids. “I have something here for you, 
Mrs. Honeythorn,” she said. “Before I left home 


IN BURGOS AND MADRID 


a friend who had traveled abroad and knew some- 
thing of the discomforts one meets in strange coun- 
tries, gave me this little pillow. It has been in my 
trunk ever since, and I took it out to-night when I 
found how poorly these beds had been supplied.” 

“Just as if I would take it from you! An old 
woman is not bound to be a selfish woman.” 

“But I do not want it. I have promised myself 
to learn to sleep without pillows,” and without 
more ado she placed it on Mrs. Honeythorn’s bed. 
“I don’t see the least bit of use in having so many 
clothes-presses as they have here,” went on Phil, 
going about the room and investigating, “two in 
one bedroom and large enough for any number of 
burglars to hide in. I am going to see if there is 
any one in them now.” She took up a candle and 
examined the presses thoroughly, afterward look- 
ing under the beds. 

Jack had gone to his own room and was sound 
asleep, and Gerry was cuddled up beside her 
grandmother. “I wish I had a grandmother to 
sleep with,” said Phil, standing candle in hand be- 
side the bed and looking at the two who occupied 
it. “I don’t like to go back to my room. There is a 
door that leads I don’t know where, and the key is 
on the other side of the door.” 

“Then you just get ready and climb into that 
other bed,” said Grandma. “I’m not goin’ to let 
you sleep by yourself if you feel nervous.” 

“That will be fine,” said Gerry. 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


Phil needed no second invitation, but vanished 
at once. She soon returned, and in a short time she 
w^as lying under the canopy of the bed at the other 
end of the apartment. 

“Is there much to see in this town. Miss Fay?” 
asked Gerry when the lights were out and they 
were all comfortably settled. 

“Yes, there are places of historical interest and 
there is a fine old cathedral where there are beauti- 
ful pictures and curious tapestries.” 

“Have you ever been in the cathedral. Miss 
Fay?” 

“Never, Gerry. This is my first trip to Spain.” 

“Then how do you know what is in the cathe- 
dral?” 

“I have read about it. When people expect to 
come abroad they should read about the countries 
they are going to see and they will enjoy their 
travels much more. It has been said that you can 
take from a country no more than you bring to it, — 
that is to say, you can not appreciate what you see 
unless you are prepared with information concern- 
ing it.” 

“That’s a fact,” said Grandma. “And Ameri- 
cans who don’t know anything about history, or the 
great painters, had a good deal better stay at home 
than to come to Europe to display their ignorance. 
And Gerry, if anybody asks you about Stratford, 
for instance, don’t say, ‘Oh, that’s the place where 
we had such lovely jam with our tea’!” 

192 


IN BURGOS AND MADRID 


“Why shouldn’t I, Grandma? The jam was 
lovely and I shall never forget it.” 

“We didn’t go to Stratford just to get that jam, 
now, did we?” 

“No, Grandma, we went because Shakespeare 
was born and buried there.” 

“Well, keep that in your mind and let the jam 
slip to the background.” 

“Speaking of ignorant Americans,” said Phil, 
“reminds me of one of whom I heard some time 
ago. It was a woman, who, in Rome, went to see the 
Apollo Belvedere. When she returned to her ho- 
tel she said, ‘Well, I’ve been to the Vatican to see 
the Apollo-with-the-beveled-ear, and I could not 
see that his ears were different from the ears of the 
other statues !’ That sounds like a newspaper joke, 
but it was told to me as the truth. And I’m very 
much afraid some travelers are like that.” 

“I’ve read that this is the town where Ferdinand 
and Isabella met their daughter-in-law, when she 
came to Spain to be married to their son,” said 
Mrs. Honeythorn. 

“Yes,” said Phil, “and she was a fascinating 
princess, the daughter of the Emperor Maximil- 
ian, of Austria. I intend to write a novel about 
her some day. When she was a child she was sent 
to France to be brought up in that country, for it 
was intended that she should be the wife of the 
dauphin. Then there was a disagreement between 
the two countries, and Marguerite was sent home. 

193 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


When she was about sixteen she was selected as 
the wife of the young Prince of the Asturias, the 
only son of Ferdinand and Isabella. A splendid 
fleet was sent to conduct her to Spanish shores, but 
a fearful storm demolished some of the vessels, and 
it was believed that the one in which the princess 
had sailed would go down, and every one on board 
was very much terrified excepting the princess, 
who wrote some gay little lines, intended, she said, 
for her obituary. But her life was saved and she 
married the young prince at the time set.” 

“Just as a princess does in a fairy story,” said 
Gerry. 

“Queen Isabella ought to have been a mighty 
happy woman at that time,” observed Grandma. 
“Everything was going her way; they had dis- 
covered America; they had conquered the Moors, 
and her son was a young man that any mother 
would have been proud of. But her son lived only a 
few months after he married, and a lot of other 
things happened to make her sad. But somehow I 
never think of Isabella as bein’ lively at the best of 
times. She was always serious, it seems to me.” 

“If I were a queen,” said Gerry, “I should never 
be sad. I could always go and get my crown and 
try it on and watch the diamonds sparkle, and then 
I would put on my different dresses and look over 
my shoulder at the train covered with gold or sil- 
ver embroidery.” 

“Yes, and a no-account kind of a queen you’d be, 

194 


IN BURGOS AND MADRID 


if you acted like that,” said her grandmother 
sternly. “Kings and queens are put in their places 
to govern the country with wisdom, to do good to 
their subjects and to set an example that ought to 
be followed. More is expected of them than of 
anybody else, and they ought to be very particular 
about what they do.” 

“I wonder,” said Gerry after a pause, “what 
Engracia is doing now. I can’t help feeling. 
Grandma, that you ought to have kept her. You 
paid for her and she was yours.” 

“But child alive, I didn’t want her. I didn’t 
know I was buyin’ her when I paid out that 
money.” 

“Would you have kept her if you had been at 
home and her mother had been willing?” 

“I don’t know what I should have done. But 
what is the use of speculatin’ about what I should 
have done at home? There are no Spanish babies 
there.” 

“But I said if she had been there and if you — ” 

“There, don’t go into it so deep. You might as 
well say if Jackson County could be hitched on to 
Castile, what would happen next? Go to sleep, 
child, and stop tryin’ to work out puzzles.” 

“Oh, Grandma !” called Gerry the next morning, 
“there is snow on the ground; just listen to the 
sleigh-bells.” 

“Snow in Spain at this time of year! What are 
you thinkin’ of, Gerry? Don’t you recollect that 

195 ■ " 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


the horses in this town wear strings of bells around 
their necks? Didn’t you notice ’em last night?” 

“Oh, yes, I remember now. I wonder why they 
wear bells.” 

“I can’t say, unless it’s because these people arc 
fond of jangle and noise.” 

“I have heard that there is a superstition that 
bells keep away evil spirits,” said Phil, “and that is 
why they put bells on their horses.” 

Almost the first request Phil made of the oblig- 
ing monk who conducted them through the cathe- 
dral was to show them the head of Saint Francis 
carved in wood. This carved head, looking down 
from a column, was most lifelike. 

“This cathedral is very old,” said Phil, “it was 
built in the thirteenth century.” 

Among all the tombs of the nobility and of the 
dignitaries of the Church the most beautiful was 
that of the first Constable of Castile and his wife. 
This noble couple were the friends of Ferdinand 
and Isabella and their figures are exquisitely 
carved in marble of a soft creamy tint. “And I like 
the expression of their faces so much better than the 
faces on the tombs in England and France, that 
looked as if the people they represented had died 
mighty well satisfied with themselves and put on a 
smirk,” said Mrs. Honeythorn. 

The monk showed them a small fortune in tapes- 
tries made in the fifteenth century. Most old tapes- 
try represents wooden men and women, but their 

196 


IN BURGOS AND MADRID 


guide called attention to the fact that these faces 
bore “mucho exprecion” (a great deal of expres- 
sion) . He pointed to a worm-eaten chest fastened 
to the wall, saying that it was the cofre which the 
Cid, the great Spanish hero who lived nearly nine 
hundred years before, filled with sand, and, telling 
a Jew that it contained gold and jewels, borrowed 
money on it. 

“What did the Jew think, when he opened the 
chest and found nothing but sand?” asked Jack of 
Miss Fay. 

“Oh, he appears to have been a very innocent, 
trusting kind of a Jew, and he did not open it. As 
the Cid afterward repaid him it is a question if the 
lender ever knew the contents of the chest.” 

The old cathedral contained a number of fine 
pictures. The monk took from behind a shrine, as 
if it were something sacred, a Magdalen by Leo- 
nardo da Vinci, holding a mirror in such a way that 
the light fell full upon the pictured face, bringing 
out the tints of the rich auburn hair and making 
the flesh appear warm, soft and living. 

Leaving the cathedral they went into the Espo- 
lon, or public garden. 

“That statue of the man with the full beard,” 
said Phil, “is Fernando Gonzalez, who is said to 
be the ancestor of one of America’s well-known 
ministers. Philip the Second revered the memory 
of this man, and the triumphal arch we saw this 
morning was erected in his honor. He was a brave 

197 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


hero, a true knight of chivalry, and his wife was 
named Sancha. 

“Once in a battle with the French, Count Fer- 
nando Gonzalez galloped to the front ranks and 
cried : ‘Where is the Count of Toulouse? Let him 
come forth and fight me, me, Fernando Gonzalez 
of Castile, who defy him to single combat’ The 
French count answered promptly and the two 
knights rushed at each other with the full speed of 
their horses. The lance of Count Gonzalez pierced 
the armor of his enemy, who fell mortally wound- 
ed, and the others, dismayed by the fate of their 
leader, surrendered. 

“But Count Gonzalez, like a noble chevalier, 
paid all honor to the body of his fallen foe, wrap- 
ping it in a fine Moorish mantle and covering the 
casket with cloth of gold.” 

“There is no use talkin’,” said Grandma, “the 
Spanish are nice people in some ways. In our war 
with Spain, when Cervera had some of our officers 
as prisoners, he gave ’em the best he had, and plenty 
of eggs when eggs were about twenty-five cents 
apiece.” 

Before they left Burgos they visited the tomb of 
the Cid and even saw his bones. Grandma said, 
“The people on this side of the water want to prove 
everything to the bitter end.” 

“Yes,” said Jack, “don’t you remember, in the 
cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris, the verger told 
us about a brave archbishop who had died at his 
198 


IN BURGOS AND MADRID 

post? And then he brought a piece of the arch- 
bishop’s spinal column to show us. And it wasn’t 
a bit different from the spinal columns we study 
about in physiology.” 

“If I stay in Spain long I am afraid I won’t have 
a cent left,” said Mrs. Honeythorn, as they strolled 
through the garden. “I don’t know why it is, but 
the beggars come straight at me and just hang on • 
till I give ’em something. This morning I handed 
a two-cent piece to an old man who wouldn’t let 
me pass him and he burst into tears and kissed the 
money. I notice that they don’t torment you as they 
do me, Phil. What is it that you say to them?” 

“When I do not care to give them anything I 
make the reply that the Spaniards themselves do : 
‘God pardon me, brother — or sister — I have noth- 
ing for you,’ and they understand it is final.” 

As they were driving to the railway station 
Grandma said, “I’m not sorry to leave that hotel, I 
can tell you! Such poor cookin’ I never tasted. If 
I boarded there for any length of time I declare 
I’d go down to the kitchen and show ’em that there 
ain’t the least use in havin’ sour bread. It’s just 
sinful to spoil good flour like that.” 

On the way to Madrid they passed a low white 
building. La Rabida, the monastery where Colum- 
bus and his little son were sheltered at the time 
when the great discoverer was trying to convince 
people of the existence of another world across the 
seas. 


199 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


When they stepped from the train at Madrid a 
short, heavy-set, round-faced young man, address- 
ing Mrs. Honeythorn in rather poor English, asked 
her if he could be of any assistance. She was so 
pleased to find a Spaniard to whom she could talk 
that she replied immediately, “Yes, you can tell us 
how to get to our hotel. The name of it is on this 
card, but I can’t pronounce it and never expect to.” 

The Hotel de Embajadores, certainly he could 
conduct her to it, the man replied. 

“Mebby you belong to it?” 

Oh, yes, he belonged to it, he said. 

“Perhaps it belongs to him?” suggested Gerry in 
a low tone to J ack. 

^‘No,” said Jack, “from his looks I don’t think 
he could manage to own even a hen-coop, much 
less a hotel.” 

The round-faced young man went with them to 
the hotel and then said he would be outside, near 
the entrance, when they should need his services 
again. 

“It’s a queer thing that a hotel would send a man 
to the depot for guests and then charge ’em a pe- 
seta for showin’ ’em where it is,” said Grandma. 

“Spanish ways are not our ways,” replied Phil. 

Two hours later, when they were ready to go 
sight-seeing, the round-faced young man was pa- 
tiently waiting for them. 

“I’ve got some English five-dollar gold pieces, 
or sovereigns, they call ’em, that I want to change 
200 


IN BURGOS AND MADRID 


into Spanish money,” said Grandma. “Can you 
tell me where I can have it done?” 

Assuredly. The round-faced young man had a 
friend who would do very well by them in the mat- 
ter of exchange. He stepped into a shop where he 
procured twenty pesetas for each of her gold sov- 
ereigns ; then he said he could sell her at a bargain 
some tickets for the bull-fight, which was to come 
off the day after to-morrow. 

“I don’t think that bull-fightin’ is right,” said 
she. 

The round-faced young man agreed with her. It 
was a wicked amusement, but still all visitors went 
to see it. They could go to the amphitheater to see 
the parade and they could leave before the bull was 
killed. 

“We might see that much of it, mightn’t we, 
Phil?” asked Grandma. 

“I think so. I have come to see the customs of the 
country, and as bull-fighting has been an institution 
in Spain for centuries I want to witness at least a 
part of one.” 

The round-faced young man said his tickets were 
for the shady side of the arena, which was a great 
point in their favor, and that he would sell them 
for twelve pesetas each. 

“That seems high for a bull-fight,” remarked 
Mrs. Honeythorn, “but I guess we’ll have to pay 
it.” 

They returned to the hotel for dinner and the 

201 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


round-faced young man said he would again be 
outside should they care to go out in the evening. 
But before they started out Phil had a conversation 
with one of the proprietors of the hotel. 

“That guide swindled you, Mrs. Honeythorn,” 
said she. “The proprietor says any bank will allow 
thirty pesetas for a gold sovereign and you received 
but twenty. And the price we paid for tickets to 
the bull-fight was too much.” 

“Then what makes ’em keep a man to swindle 
folks that come to this hotel?” 

“They don’t keep him. He brought us here of 
his own accord.” 

“Then why don’t they have him arrested?” 

“I do not know. Perhaps they think it would be 
too much trouble. This is Spain, you know.” 

“If he’s waitin’ outside he will hear from me!” 
cried Grandma with a gleam in her eye. “Thank 
goodness he understands English !” 

The round-faced young man was waiting, se- 
renely unconscious of what was in store for him. 

■“What do you mean by pretendin’ to belong to 
this hotel?” asked the old lady fiercely, as soon as 
she beheld him. “And I want back the money you 
swindled me out of on that gold. Four five-dollar 
gold pieces in good English money you changed 
for me that I’d ought to ’a’ had thirty pesetas apiece 
for, and you gave me only twenty! That’s forty 
pesetas I am out on that deal, to say nothin’ of pay- 
in’ too high for the bull-fight. What do you mean 
202 


IN BURGOS AND MADRID 


by cheatin’ me like that? Me, a woman and a 
stranger in your country, that you’d ought to pro- 
tect instead of tryin’ to rob !” 

She said all this so rapidly that the guide was be- 
wildered at first, but when he regained control of 
his voice he insisted that he had not cheated the 
senora. His friend had told him that the gold 
pieces were worth but twenty pesetas, and how was 
he to know that it was not so? He was but a poor 
man, look you, and what did he know of gold 
pieces? 

“Then what made you pretend that you did? 
You marched off with your face all puffed out in a 
smile, as if changin’ English for Spanish money 
was a business you’d been born to ! Now I want you 
to take me back to that place and get me back my 
eight dollars.” 

The round-faced young man would be pleased 
to do so. If the gracious senora had been swindled 
by a friend of his the wrong should be righted, if 
to do so would require his own heart’s blood. And 
he placed his hand on his heart to show that he was 
in deadly earnest. 

“Nobody wants your heart’s blood, but I’m goin’ 
to have my eight dollars, if I have to complain to 
your very queen to get it!” 

It may be that the round-faced young man never 
had met anybody just like Grandma, or it may be 
that he was afraid that certain previous transactions 
of his own, together with the present instance, 

203 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


might be noised abroad and get him into trouble. 
Be that as it may, he took forty pesetas from his 
pocket, and, saying that he would not give the 
senora the trouble of going to his friend, he 
counted the money into her hand ; and though she 
discovered later that two of the pesetas were coun- 
terfeit she congratulated herself upon recovering 
the other thirty-eight, saying: “This surely will be 
a lesson to us not to trust a stranger that way again.” 

Madrid, a city of more than a half-million in- 
habitants, is chiefly noted for the works of art con- 
tained in its royal museum, the Prado, which is 
said to be the finest collection of paintings in the 
world. Here indeed is a feast for those who hunger 
for the sight of beautiful pictures, and Phil refused 
to leave it to go to breakfast. 

“Think of it!” she cried, counting in her cata- 
logue; “forty-three Murillos, sixty-four Velas- 
quez, fifty-four Tintorettos, sixty-five Rubens, and 
oh! there is a wealth of them, and I can eat almost 
any time, but I can’t always go through the Prado!” 

Nowhere, not even at Buckingham or Windsor, 
had they seen such fine royal stables as at Madrid. 

“I can’t imagine what use even a king could have 
for all these horses and carriages,” said Jack. 

They particularly admired a pair of milk-white 
horses with very long flowing tails which almost 
swept the ground, and which Phil said she sup- 
posed must be Arabian steeds. 

One carriage of richly-carved ebony attracted 

204 


IN BURGOS AND MADRID 

their attention and an attendant was asked its his- 
tory. 

“It is the carriage that Juana la Loca ordered 
made after the death of her husband,” he replied. 

“She was the daughter of Ferdinand and Isa- 
bella,” said Phil. ''Loca means insane and as 
Juana is the Spanish for Jane I have wondered if 
our expression ‘crazy Jane’ came originally from 
the name given to that unhappy princess. Her acts 
during occasional gleams of intelligence showed 
that but for her infirmity she might have ruled her 
realm with wisdom and power. I always have 
pitied poor Juana la Loca.” 

Jack was greatly interested in the royal armory, 
where the armor and weapons are kept as brightly 
polished as if they had been used but yesterday, 
though the knights who fought with them lie in the 
dust of centuries. 

During the winter when most foreigners visit 
Spain the bull-fight is a tame affair, for the bulls 
used at that season are very young. But from April 
to October the full-grown animal only is allowed 
to appear in the arena, and no town of any import- 
ance is without its plaza de toros where once a week 
the beauty, the fashion and the common people of 
the place meet to witness the mortal combat of men 
and animals. 

The amphitheater at Madrid accommodates 
thirteen thousand people and it seemed as if every 
seat was filled. When our Americans entered the 

205 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


building they saw that the more richly-dressed peo- 
ple were holding a kind of reception in the ring, 
while the orchestra played popular airs. Every- 
body seemed in the gayest of spirits, for nothing so 
cheers a Spaniard as the prospect of enjoying his 
favorite pastime. The senoras and senoritas were 
very handsome in their mantillas of white or black 
lace and their cream-colored silk shawls embroid- 
ered in colors. 

Finally a signal was given and the audience, with 
much laughter and flutter of fans, sought the boxes. 
Although their guide had charged too much for 
the seats they were good ones and on the shady side, 
as he had stated. Attendants walked about crying, 
“Agua caliente y aguaf'' 

“What are they selling. Miss Fay?” asked Gerry. 
“It is something nice, I know, and I want some of 
it.” 

“They are selling brandy and water,” replied 
Phil. 

“Oh,” said Gerry, “I won’t drink that stuff!” 

“No,” said her grandmother, “I don’t think you 
will.” 

Two horsemen gorgeously attired first rode in, 
then followed a glittering procession of picadors, 
banderilleros, punterillos, and toreadors, followed 
by mules to carry off the vanquished. The program, 
which was printed on glaring yellow paper, stated 
that six bulls from the estate of a gentleman in 
Seville would engage in the fight, and after the 
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arena had been cleared one of these animals was 
brought in. 'He was a great brown and red fellow 
named Perdigon, and he wore a brown ribbon in 
his mane. His first move was to dash after a ban- 
derillero who had neglected to get out of the way. 
The man ran for dear life and barely succeeded in 
climbing the railing before the bull reached him. 
Phil and the children joined the rest of the audi- 
ence in a hearty laugh, not realizing what a serious 
matter it would have been for the man had he been 
a little slower or his pursuer a trifle quicker. 

“I wouldn’t want to meet that bull in a field,” 
said Mrs. Honeythorn, drawing a long breath of 
relief when the man leaped the railing, “and so far 
from wantin’ to laugh, my heart was in my mouth.” 

The picadors now returned and banners were 
waved at the bull. 

“Those banners are of a crushed strawberry 
color,” remarked Phil. “I had always supposed 
that they used fiery red ones.” 

The picadors pricked the bull with their lances 
and the creature, already ferocious, became furious 
and gored the poor horses in the most horrible man- 
ner. Gerry began to cry, Phil turned pale and 
Grandma said: 

“I can’t stand this another minute! I never could 
bear to see a horse abused, and to see these blind- 
folded and not allowed a chance to get out of the 
way is too much for me, and I won’t stay to see it.” 

“Nor I,” said Phil, “let us go.” 

207 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


And out they went, followed by the wondering 
gaze of the people in their vicinity, who were sur- 
prised that these queer Americans could leave the 
scene before witnessing the wonderful prowess of 
a matador who had engaged in one hundred and 
sixty-nine bull-fights and had killed nearly two 
hundred and fifty bulls. He was not a poor man. 



this matador, for he received four thousand pesetas 
every time he entered the ring. 

After leaving the amphitheater they took a stroll 
and were followed for a block by women begging 
for money. Mrs. Honeythorn was the one to whom 
they made the loudest appeal, crying, ‘‘Ah-h-h-h 
Senorita, un poquito para una pobrecita," (Ah, 
Senorita, a little something for a poor little 
woman). 


208 


IN BURGOS AND MADRID 


“No, no,” she cried, shaking her head and wav- 
ing her hands to show that there was nothing for 
them. “Yes, yes,” they insisted in their own lan- 
guage, pointing to the bag hanging at her belt. 

“I s’pose they think I’ve filled this bag with 
money to give away,” said the old lady in a vexed 
tone. 

Phil came to her rescue with a mild, “There is 
nothing, sister,” and they ceased to torment; 
though, when the party entered a restaurant in 
quest of ices the same women, now joined by a num- 
ber of girls and boys, peeped through the door and 
greedily watched them. 

“Dear me !” said Grandma. “I never could eat a 
bite when there was even a dog watchin’ me and 
wantin’ it more than I do. I wonder how much it 
would cost to have ’em come in and eat something?” 

“No, please!” said Phil. “They are evidently 
professional beggars and should you invite them in 
others would follow and there would be almost no 
end to them.” She called the waiter. 

“Why do you not send those people away?” she 
asked. “Do you think your patrons like to be 
watched while they are at the table?” 

The waiter apologized and going to the door he 
dispersed them with one word, but they waited at 
a little distance for the Americans to come out, 
sending after them as a parting jeer, “You have 
eaten cake, but you will not give money to buy 
bread for us.” 


209 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE EIGHTH WONDER OF THE WORLD 

“What are we going to do to-day?” asked Jack. 

“I shall leave that to Phil,” replied his grand- 
mother. 

“Then I propose that we pay a visit to the Es- 
corial,” said Phil. “It is but thirty miles from 
Madrid and we can easily make the trip and be 
back here by dinner-time.” 

“What is the Escorial, Miss Fay?” asked Gerry. 

“It is one of the most interesting palaces in Eu- 
rope. The Spaniards call it the ^octava maravilla/ 
or eighth wonder of the world.” 

As is the custom on the continent, they were tak- 
ing breakfast in their own rooms. A little table was 
spread and they were seated at a simple repast of 
rolls and boiled eggs, with coffee for the grown- 
ups, and milk for the children. 

“I’ve read more or less about the Escorial,” said 
Grandma, “but I wish you’d tell about it, Phil, and 
give the children some notion of what they are to 
see.” 

“Ah, you’ll be delighted with it! It is a grand 
palace, monastery and royal tomb, and was built by 
Philip the Second. 

“He was a grim and mysterious king and the 
210 


THE EIGHTH WONDER 


building resembles him in some respects. He knew 
the secrets of the courts of Europe and he knew 
even the private affairs of his courtiers. He was 
very sarcastic and forbidding in his manner, and 
he inspired with awe the ladies and gentlemen who 
surrounded him, and it is said that even the most 
self-possessed among them became embarrassed in 
his presence. 

“Philip was the great-grandson of Ferdinand 
and Isabella, so you see our own country was still 
very young when he lived. 

“The battle of St. Quentin was fought on St. 
Lawrence day and Philip made a vow to that saint 
that if he would grant victory to the Spanish troops 
he would build to his memory the grandest palace 
the world ever saw. As the Spaniards were vic- 
torious Philip turned his attention to the fulfilment 
of his vow. For six years he dreamed of it and for 
twenty-one years he was engaged in its actual con- 
struction, which cost him nearly thirty millions.” 

“In pesetas?” asked Jack. 

“No; I put the sum into dollars. It was first 
called ‘El Sitio del San Lorenzo el Real/ but it 
now takes the name of the near-by village, called 
Escorial from the scoriae of its iron mines. 

“Saint Lawrence, I must tell you, was roasted by 
his enemies on a gridiron, and it is related that after 
he had lain on it a while he remarked that he surely 
must be done on that side and asked if it would not 
be well to turn him over. The Escorial is huilt in 


2II 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


the form of a gridiron, because of the manner in 
which this saint met his death.” 

“I am so glad it is not raining,” said Gerry as the 
train pulled out of the depot. “In the first place it 
is so much nicer to see things when the day is 
bright, and then it is very disagreeable to spoil a 
clean white dress.” 

“I almost wish the weather was gloomy,” said 
Phil. 

“Why?” asked Mrs. Honeythorn. 

“Because the Escorial is such a gruesome place 
that I want the day to be in keeping with it. I want 
to experience a shivery feeling while I am there.” 

“My nurse used to tell me stories that made me 
feel that way, and I don’t think it is at all nice,” 
said Gerry. 

The scenery around Madrid is most uninterest- 
ing, and there was nothing to see until they arrived 
at their journey’s end, when it was not necessary to 
inquire the whereabouts of the Escorial, for there 
it was in plain view, cold and gray on the side of 
the mountain. It seemed so near that they thought 
it would be pleasant to walk from the station, 
though they were tormented as usual by beggars 
demanding “un poquito.” 

“I thought you said ‘Senorita’ means a young 
lady, Phil,” said Mrs. Honeythorn, endeavoring to 
shoo the beggars away. 

“And so it does, Mrs. Honeythorn.” 

“Then what makes them call me ‘Senorita’? I 


212 


lTHE eighth wonder 


have a notion that I look something over sixteen,” 
said Grandma. 

“But your heart is young, Grandma,” said Jack 
gravely, “and that is as good as a young face.” 

“I am obliged for the compliment, Jacky, but 
what do they know about my heart? — for I hope I 
don’t skip along and act frivolous. I think it’s be- 
cause they reckon on my bein’ so tickled with their 
flattery that I’ll just empty my pocketbook into 
their laps.” 

They found that the walk to the Escorial was 
much longer than they had suspected, for the clear 
mountain air had deceived them as to its distance. 
Of the fifteen principal entrances they found the 
one leading to the royal apartments, which are sit- 
uated in the handle of the gridiron. Here they en- 
tered a suite called the queen’s apartments, passing 
through room after room whose walls were hung 
with richest tapestry, some of it called Pompeiian, 
so exquisitely wrought that the figures produced 
the effect of a carving in cameo. 

On they went through the long Sala de Batallas, 
where the walls are covered with battle scenes, into 
the room where Philip spent fourteen years of his 
life and where he died a horrible death. 

“It seems strange that a king would live in such 
plain rooms as these when he could buy anything 
he wanted,” said Gerry. “I should think he would 
have liked to have pretty things all about him, so he 
could see them the first thing in the morning.” 

213 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“Almost any of the farmers at home have a better 
bedroom than this,” observed Grandma. 

“Philip was like a monk in his taste in his own 
dress and in his immediate surroundings,” replied 
Miss Fay. “While his courtiers were gay with col- 
ors and glittering in jewels, he always wore somber 
black. When you study the history of France, chil- 
dren, you will find there a king who in this respect 
was very much like him, and that is Louis the 
Eleventh.” 

“ ‘Superstitious and cruel, vindictive and cold,’ ” 
quoted Gerry. 

“For goodness’ sake! Where did you find such 
a mouthful of words?” asked her grandmother, 
much interested. 

“It is in that poetry about the French kings that 
Miss Fay gave us. I learned some of it.” 

“Good for you! You shall have a doll for that if 
there’s one to be found in Madrid.” 

Philip’s private apartments are almost mean in 
their simplicity; the floor is of brick and the fur- 
niture is very plain, with the exception of two 
chairs of dark wood elaborately carved by a monk. 

“Here,” said the guide, “is the chair upon which 
the king rested his leg when he was tormented by 
the gout; this one he used in the winter and this in 
the summer.” 

“I don’t see any difference between his winter 
and his summer chair,” said Jack to his sister, “one 
looks as cool as the other.” 


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Philip’s private apartments are almost mean in their simplicity Page 214 























THE EIGHTH WONDER 


“I expect he was what we would call in Amer- 
ica a kind of an old crank,” said Gerry. 

“Hush, the guide will hear you.” 

“What of it? He can’t speak or understand Eng- 
lish.” 

“He may understand the word ‘crank’ and he 
might have us arrested for making fun of his king.” 

“I don’t see why we can’t say what we like about 
him. He wasn’t our king; I’m sure we should have 
been very much ashamed of him if he had been. 
You know Miss Fay told us coming out that he 
laughed aloud when he heard of the massacre of 
Saint Bartholomew, and we heard in Paris how 
horrible that was !” 

Opening from the king’s sitting-room was the 
little oratory where Philip said his prayers, and an- 
other room where he breathed his last with the 
crucifix of Charles the Fifth clasped in his hands 
and with his eyes fixed on the images of his family 
in bronze and gilt in the chapel below. 

Now and again they came upon a statue or a 
painting of Saint Lawrence with his gridiron, 
which he held in his hand as a lady carries a fan. 
Even the picture by Giordano on the ceiling of the 
grand stair-case shows the saint as entering Heaven 
with his gridiron still in his hand. 

“I wonder how they could roast such a large man 
on such a small gridiron,” said Jack. 

“People are different from what they used to be. 
That is what Grandma and Miss Fay always say 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


when I ask questions about such things,” said 
Gerry. 

“Fiddlesticks! No grown man ever was small 
enough to be cooked on a little thing like that.” 

“It is merely the symbol, or visible sign of his 
martyrdom, to remind us of how he met his death,” 
said Phil, who had overheard this conversation and 
was amused by it. 

The walls of the refectory, or monks’ dining- 
room, are lined with paintings, and at one end of it 
is a reading desk from which a Brother was wont 
to read aloud while the others were at table, thus 
refreshing body and mind at the same time. 

In the great coro, or choir, with its richly-carved 
stalls, they were shown the chair in which Philip 
used to sit while at mass. 

“I have learned what his name is in Spanish, just 
by hearing the guide say it so much,” said Gerry. 
“It is Felipe (pronounced Fayleepay) Secundo 
here, and Felipe Secundo there, and one would 
think he made the world.” 

“I think we hear a good deal in other places 
about Isabel la Catolica,” said Jack. 

“Who was she?” asked Gerry. 

“I should think you’d be ashamed to ask. She 
was the wife of Ferdinand.” 

“I don’t think it was such a terrible mistake. 
There have been other queens of Spain named Isa- 
bel, haven’t there. Miss Fay?” 

“Yes, dear, and the Elizabeths of other countries 


THE EIGHTH WONDER 


who married kings of Spain were called Isabel, for 
that is the Spanish for the name.” 

“Now,” said Gerry, “what did I tell you?” 

“Well,, you ought to have known that she was the 
principal Isabel of them all.” 

The monk who conducted them through the li- 
brary showed them some rare books, one of which 
was written in gold and contained something like 
fifteen pounds of that precious metal. Phil would 
have liked to read some of the titles of the volumes 
on the shelves, but the backs were toward the wall 
and there was nothing to be seen of them but rows 
and rows of gilt edges. 

The monk who had charge of the library was 
handsome in spite of his coarse, cowled robe, and 
he was learned and very polite. When they offered 
him a fee he refused it. 

“Not even for the poor?” asked Phil. 

“No, Senorita, I never touch money.” 

“He is the first person that’s refused it since we 
crossed the ocean,” said Mrs. Honeythorn, who was 
much amazed at this proceeding on the part of the 
monk. 

There was a guide for each apartment of the Es- 
corial, and the youth who conducted them through 
the panteon informed them that the best time to 
visit this magnificent sepulcher, where the mem- 
bers of the royal family are interred, is when the 
tempest roars and the winds shriek. “It curdles the 
blood so deliciously,” said he. 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


They went down a flight of steps into the ebony 
and gold panteon containing shelves upon which 
the caskets are placed. Here may rest none but 
kings and the mothers of kings. On these caskets 
are inscribed the names of Philip the Second, 
Charles the Fifth and others in the royal line, while 



curdles the blood so deliciously/* said he 


some of them are empty, still awaiting their occu- 
pants. 

Next the visitors entered the panteon of the in- 
fantes and infantas, or princes and princesses of 
Spain, where row after row of tombs glitter in 
gleaming white marble and gold. 

“Philip wanted to build one of the most beauti- 
ful sepulchers in the world for his family and he 
succeeded,” said Phil. 

“If he had taken his thirty millions and invested 

218 


THE EIGHTH WONDER 


it some way for the good of his people instead of 
buildin’ this gloomy palace that gives you the 
shivers, Spain might with such a good start have 
been a first-class country to-day,” remarked Grand- 
ma. 

“Oh, yes, I suppose so,” said Phil, “but as long 
as he did erect the Escorial I don’t mind saying that 
I think, with its paintings, its tapestries, its curios 
and tombs and its haunting memories of the grim 
builder, it is one of the most bewitching places I 
ever visited.” 

On their way from the depot to the hotel it v/as 
evident that Gerry had something on her mind. 

“Grandma,” said she at last, “I think there is a 
shop in the Puerta del Sol where a doll could be 
bought; if not, there must be other places near, 
where we could find one.” 

“I’d forgotten all about my promise, but I see 
that you haven’t. Phil, I wish you would please tell 
the driver to stop at a toy-shop. We might as well 
get it and be done with it.” 

So the driver obeyed and Phil and the children 
made the purchase, Mrs. Honeythorn remaining in 
the carriage. When Gerry emerged from the shop 
she was hugging in her arms a Spanish doll dressed 
in red and yellow, with a mantilla fastened around 
her black locks. 

“It is an old-fashioned wax doll, the kind your 
mother used to play with when she was a child,” 
said Grandma. “Be careful that you don’t leave it 

219 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


in the sun, or you will find that nose flatter than a 
pancake.” 

When they were ready to leave Madrid the hotel 
bill was not sent up until the last moment, though 
they had asked for it more than once. When at last 
a servant appeared with it they found that the date 



She was hugging in her arms a Spanish doll 


of their arrival had been set back twenty-four 
hours, with a corresponding increase in the total 
amount. 

“Just ask him, Phil, why we should pay for the 
time we spent on the train before we got here,” said 
Mrs. Honeythorn. 

Then followed a great deal of argument on both 
sides. The man declared that the time had passed 
so pleasantly since their arrival in Madrid that the 

220 



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Grandma, I think there is a shop in the Puerta del Sol where a doll could be bought ’ ’ Page 219 





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THE EIGHTH WONDER 


ladies had forgotten how long they had been in that 
enchanting city. But finding that they were not so 
easily duped the proprietor’s representative finally 
admitted that he had been mistaken and they paid 
the corrected bill and started on their way to Cor- 
dova. 

“When you travel over here you’ve got to keep 
your eyes open, and open wide, too,” observed 
Grandma. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


JACK AND THE BOX 

Cordova is not clean, though it is a most inter- 
esting city. They went through a market-place 
where all sorts of fruits and vegetables were sold 
and where the dark-browed women chattered to- 
gether with frequent bursts of laughter as they ar- 
ranged their wares. A tiny donkey passed them 
with two great baskets or panniers hung across his 
back, heaped high with oranges. 

“Grandma,” said Gerry, “let me buy an orange 
out of those baskets.” 

“No, I won’t; to eat an orange at any time is like 
takin’ a bath and these are so juicy they sprinkle 
you from head to foot. Wait till we get back to the 
hotel and you shall have all the oranges you want.” 

As they were wandering about, scarcely knowing 
where to go, they saw a handsome young fellow 
standing under an archway, who surveyed them 
with interest. He wore a broad sombrero, the fav- 
orite hat of his countrymen, and he carried a staff. 
He was good to look at, with his dark eyes and 
white teeth and his smile was a pleasant one as he 
answered yes to Phil’s inquiry if he were a guide. 
He was immediately engaged and conducted them 
first to the wonderful mosque. 


222 


JACK AND THE BOX 


This structure with its long rows of marble col- 
umns has been well named a “marble forest.” It 
was built eleven hundred years ago by the Moors, 
who were highly cultivated people, and who lived 
in Spain until driven out by the more powerful 
Spaniards. Many different sects have worshiped 
there and the guide told them a number of interest- 
ing facts concerning “la Mezquita" as the Span- 
iards call it, a name derived from a word which 
means to worship. 

After showing them an old bridge built by the 
Romans he took them to the Alcazar or Moorish 
palace and they remained for some time in the gar- 
dens, which were filled with tropical trees. The 
guide told them to pluck some of the fruit and the 
children were particularly pleased with the deli- 
cious yellow plums. In the center of the garden 
was a large tank of white marble with steps leading 
down to the water. 

“Here,” said Phil, “is where the Moorish kings 
used to bathe.” 

“Wouldn’t it be fine to swim in this basin on a 
hot summer night!” exclaimed Jack. “Why don’t 
Americans build their houses around a garden like 
this, with a tank in the middle of it? Just before 
they were ready to go to bed at night the whole 
family could put on their bathing-suits and come 
down here and dive and splash each other with 
water and it would be the greatest fun in the 
world.” 


223 


YOUNG. PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


As they neared their hotel Gerry suddenly seized 
Miss Fay by the hand. “Look there,” said she, 
“standing on the porch is the gentleman who car- 
ried Engracia into the train.” 

It was indeed Mr. Winchip, who seemed very 
much pleased to see them again, and as Mrs. 
Honeythorn said afterward, “I never was gladder 
to see anybody in my life! Not that I would have 
cared so much about him in America, though he is 
a very nice man, but just because it is good to see a 
familiar face when I am so far from home.” 

“I have heard from the baby,” he said as soon as 
the greetings were over. “I had given my card 
with the name of my hotel in Madrid to the man 
who took her in charge and I received a very cor- 
dial letter from the parish priest. He wrote that 
the mother was almost distracted at the sudden dis- 
appearance of the baby, of whom the sister would 
give no satisfactory account. It appears that they 
are a poor but very worthy family, and they are 
anxious to buy a little shop in the town to keep as a 
means of livelihood. I sent the priest a small check 
to be used for their benefit, for which he returned 
a letter of thanks, and I was glad to have had the 
opportunity to be put in communication with so 
worthy a man.” 

At the dinner-table that night Mrs. Honeythorn 
said to Mr. Winchip, who sat beside her, “It was 
the wish of the children’s mother that whenever 
they should want to give money for charity, or to 

224 







Pag^ 22 J 


The Monument at Cordova 











JACK AND THE BOX 


help anybody in trouble, they should be allowed to 
do it, as long, of course, as it was in reason. She 
was sick a long while and she had time to think 
over a good many things, and she said she thought 
their hearts ought to be cultivated as well as their 
minds. They’ve never been told of this wish, of 
course, or they would be wantin’ to give away 
money all the time, but whenever they pity a 
worthy person and wish they could help them, we 
always manage to let ’em do it. Now Gerry took a 
fancy to that baby and talks about it a good deal. 
She said this afternoon, after we saw you, that she 
wished she could send it a check. 

“I told her she could send a hundred dollars to 
be kept for the child, until it seems best that it 
should be used for her good, and if you will send it 
to that priest we shall be very much obliged to 
you.” 

Mr. Winchip said he would be delighted to at- 
tend to the matter which he did that very night, so 
it would seem, viewing the matter from all sides, 
that the sale of Engracia and the unintentional kid- 
napping of that small person was one of the luckiest 
things that ever happened to her or to her family. 

Seated opposite Phil at the dinner-table was a 
young girl who seemed to be entirely alone. She 
was pale, with sharp features, very bright black 
eyes and a mouth that drooped at the corners. In 
very imperfect Spanish she ordered the waiter 
about and seemed always to be dissatisfied. 

22S 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 

“This is an English girl,” thought Phil, “and she 
seems to be alone. I did not know that the girls of 
that country ever traveled about without some one 
to protect them.” Wishing to be friendly Phil said 
to her : 

“This hotel is quite an old one, if one can judge 
by appearances.” 

“Yes,” replied the other, not deigning to lift her 
eyelids. 

Determined not to be discouraged the American 
girl went on: “A bottle of red and one of white 
wine at each plate has rather a pretty effect when 
one glances down a long table. I dare say the rea- 
son they offer it free is because it is native wine and 
very cheap.” 

The English girl made no reply whatever to this 
remark and lifted her eyebrows, as much as to say 
that neither the wine nor Phil possessed the slight- 
est interest for her. 

“Very well, my lady,” thought Phil, “I was not 
anxious to talk to you, but only pitied you because 
you are alone. Henceforth I can be as silent as 
yourself.” 

“That girl must have been told not to speak to 
people, no matter how decent they are,” said 
Grandma when they were in their own apartments. 
“Looks as if she is runnin’ away from somebody. I 
wonder what she’s doin’ here all by herself. But it’s 
none of our affair and if we see all' that’s to be seen 
and recollect it we’ll be doin’ well !” 

226 


JACK AND THE BOX 


Mrs. Honeythorn and Gerry retired early and 
Jack, suddenly remembering that he had promised 
to write a letter to Cecil Chamberlayne, the little 
English boy who was on their steamer, thought he 
would do so before he went to bed. Phil, whose 
room was next to Jack’s, said she was going to write 
and asked him to bring his pen and ink to her room 



“Company for each other” 


so that they might, as she expressed it, be “company 
for each other, and join the forces of their candles.” 
For this fonda, or hotel, did not furnish electric 
lights, or even gas. 

When they had finished their letters Phil said, 
“Jack, I always want to mail a letter as soon as it is 
written, no matter if I have waited for months be- 
fore writing it.” 

“So do I,” said he. “There is a box in the office 

227 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


for the mail and I will take them down before I go 
to bed.” 

“That’s right. The waiter who answers the bell 
is such a black-browed, surly-looking fellow that I 
should not be surprised if he would steal the stamps 
if we should intrust the letters to him.” 

As he was leaving the room she asked, “Do you 
think you can find your way through the dark halls. 
Jack?” 

“Oh, yes. I can find my way anywhere. Good 
night. Miss Fay,” 

“Good night. Jack.” 

The following morning, while the waiter was 
putting their coffee and rolls on the table, Phil be- 
gan a conversation with him in his own language, 
wishing to improve her opportunities for speaking 
Spanish. Presently she said, “Mrs. Honeythorn, 
that English girl was traveling alone, as we 
thought, and she left this morning on an early 
train.” 

“What! Are you sure about that. Miss Fay?” 
asked Jack in a tone of amazement so profound that 
all turned to look at him. 

“Certainly. Why should the waiter make the 
statement if it were not true? But why are you so 
surprised. Jack?” 

For the boy had sunk in his chair, still wear- 
ing an expression of blank astonishment. 

“I — er — nothing in particular. Miss Fay.” 

Looking at him over the top of her glasses 

228 


JACK AND THE BOX 


Grandma pinned him with a glance. “She was no 
kin to you, was she, Jack?” asked she with a touch 
of sarcasm. 

“No, Grandma.” 

“Then what makes you act so queer? It’s no 
more strange that she’s gone than that she was 
here at all, that I can see. Had you made up your 
mind that she was goin’ to board at this hotel and 
live on sour bread for the rest of her life?” 

“I don’t just know what I expected. Grandma. 
I am surprised that she has gone without saying 
anything to me about it.” 

“Without sayin’ anything to you! Well, that 
beats me! Come now. Jack, you’ve got something 
on your mind that you’re keepin’ from me and you 
might as well tell it first as last.” 

“Grandma, I will tell you all about it as soon as 
the waiter leaves the room.” 

“What’s the use of payin’ any attention to him? 
He don’t know butter from shoestrings when it 
comes to English.” 

“But there is something I want to show you that 
I don’t want him to see.” 

“You’ve got yourself mixed up in some kind of 
a mystery, I reckon. And you’ve not been out of my 
sight since we’ve been in Cordova except when you 
slept, only when you wrote that letter in Phil’s 
room last night. Do you know anything about this 
business, Phil?” 

“No, Mrs. Honeythorn. He did not do anything 

229 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


in the least mysterious while he was with me. 
When the letters were finished he took them down 
to the mail-box.” 

“And that was when it happened,” said Jack. 

“ ‘When it happened,’ ” quoted his grandmother. 
“Ten minutes is all Jack needs to get mixed up in 
some kind of a scrape. Have you been pourin’ 
some more pansy tea in somebody’s eyes?” 

“No, Grandma,” returned Jack meekly. 

The waiter had now spread the cloth to his satis- 
faction ; these barbarous Americans had asked for 
fruit with their breakfast, so a dish of fresh figs, to 
be eaten with cream, graced the exact middle of the 
round table. He had placed the coffee-pot with the 
sugar and cream next to Miss Fay, and the butter, 
rolls and dish of soft-boiled eggs near Mrs. Honey- 
thorn. Then, after a swift parting glance to see 
that nothing had been forgotten, he noiselessly 
withdrew. 

“Oh, I thought he’d never go!” cried Gerry. 
“Now, Jack, bring out whatever it is you have and 
show us.” 

“Just wait till I tell about it first. Last night as 
I was coming up stairs after mailing the letters, I 
saw that young lady waiting in the hall at the door 
of her room, and that dark-looking waiter that 
Miss Fay dislikes so much was standing beside her. 
She had a box in her hand and she gave it to me, 
saying something in Spanish in quite a loud voice. 
Then she whispered, ‘To-morrow,’ to me and 

230 


JACK AND THE BOX 

bounced into her room and shut the door and 
locked it. I knocked but she wouldn’t answer, then 
I motioned to the waiter to find out what she 
meant; but he shrugged his shoulders to his ears, 
waved his hands and walked off. 

“I thought she meant that I was to give her the 



box to-day, but if she’s gone I don’t know what she 
does mean.” 

“What did you do with the box?” asked his 
grandmother. 

“I locked it up in my satchel. It looks shabby 
and I don’t think it is worth much.” 

“Bring it in and let’s see it.” 

The box was a jewel-case, considerably worn, 
and it was locked. 


231 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


‘‘As she seems to have left it for good and all,” 
said Mrs. Honeythorn, “I don’t think it would be 
any harm to open it and see if it’s worth keepin’. I 
expect it’s a trick she thought it would be funny to 
play on you, though some people have queer no- 
tions of what fun is.” 

After trying all their keys without any success 
Gerry said, “Why don’t you try your watch-key, 
Grandma?” 

“Good for you! I never thought of it. This key 
is made to fit any kind of a watch, and I believe it 
will be just right for this funny little lock. Yes, it 
does turn ; now look out for some kind of a thing 
that will pop out to scare you, for it’s likely to be 
that if anything.” 

The lid flew open and the contents of the box 
brought a cry of astonishment from all, for there 
was a dazzling glitter of jewels. There was a dia- 
mond necklace, a diamond star, some jeweled 
clasps and a number of rings set with precious 
stones. 

“Jacky,” said his grandmother with a gasp, “this 
is the worst scrape we’ve got into yet! That girl is 
a thief and findin’ that she was about to be caught 
she has pa’med this jewelry off on to you. Don’t it 
beat all the way we get hold of things that don’t be- 
long to us? My mind hasn’t been at rest about that 
baby until we met Mr. Winchip yesterday, and 
here’s this jewelry shoved at us that will get us into 
more trouble than kidnappin’ a dozen babies.” 

232 


JACK AND THE BOX 

“But, Grandma, I can prove by the waiter that 
she gave it to me.” 

“Oh, she could bribe him to keep quiet. We’ll 
take the box down to the office, tell ’em to keep it 
till they hear from the owner and wash our hands 
of the whole business — that will be the easiest 
way,” said Grandma. 

“If you will excuse me, Mrs. Honeythorn, I 
don’t think that would be the best way to do,” said 
Phil. “I do not believe that the girl was a thief, 
though she may have been somewhat singular and 
not just right in her head. She may have gone 
away in a hurry and forgotten it. I think it would, 
be well to keep it a while, until we hear from her 
and if she makes no sign then we can decide what 
would be best to do. Let us find, if we can, what 
train she left on ; we may meet her somewhere else, 
you know.” 

Finding that the English girl had taken the six- 
o’clock train for Seville Phil said, “That is well ; as 
we are going there ourselves we shall probably see 
her again.” 

At luncheon they met Mr. Winchip. “I have 
had a very pleasant morning,” said he, “but 
through it all I have been wondering about a note 
which I received at breakfast and which has 
greatly puzzled me. I wish you could help me to 
solve the riddle.” 

He drew from his pocket a large blue envelope 
and read from a sheet of blue paper: 

233 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“ ‘Please send big’ (I can not make out what the 
next word is; it looks like ‘juggle’ but that can’t be 
right) ‘to Miss Maria Custar, Hotel de Madrid, 
Seville.’ The letter is unquestionably for me, for it 
has ‘Rev. Mr. Winchip’ on the envelope. I find 
that it was left for me by the young woman who sat 
opposite us at the table last night. There was noth- 
ing left in her room, the maids say, and if there had 
been why should I have been asked to forward it to 
her? I who had not even spoken to her? What do 
you make of it?” Mr. Winchip looked really dis- 
tressed. 

“You may be thankful,” said Grandma, “that she 
let you off as easy as she did. If you’d had a whole 
box of diamonds pa’med off on to you by that girl, 
as we did, you would have reason to be worried in 
good earnest.” 

Then she related Jack’s experience, which puz- 
zled Mr. Winchip as much as it did the others. 

“Would you allow me to read that letter, Mr. 
Winchip?” asked Phil. 

“Certainly.” 

She studied it for a few moments. 

“That word is not ‘big,’ ” said she, “there is no 
dot above the middle letter, and the last letter is an 
‘X’ ending with a scrawl. It is ‘box,’ of course, and 
the next word is not ‘juggle’ but ‘jewels’, though I 
never saw such dreadful writing. She must have 
scrawled it in great haste. But it is all right, she 
wants you to send the jewels to her at Seville.” 

234 


JACK AND THE BOX 

“But why should she give the box to the boy and 
leave the note for me?” 

“She was evidently under the impression that 
you belonged to our party.” 

“I am glad that the puzzle has been solved for all 
of us. As you are going to Seville to-day and as she 
had sufficient confidence in you to intrust her jew- 
els to Jack’s keeping, I think you would better take 
them, if you do not mind, and give them into her 
own hands.” 

“And at the same time,” said Grandma, “I will 
give Miss Maria Custar a piece of my mind. Now, 
children, let this be a lesson not to take anything 
that anybody hands you. I’ll be worried every 
minute until that box gets to its owner, and I’m go- 
in’ to lock it in my satchel and not let it out of my 
sight until I give it to her.” 


235 


CHAPTER XIX 


IN FAIR SEVILLE 

“I should like to live here for weeks and weeks!” 
cried Gerry as she and Jack, rid of the dust of 
travel and neatly dressed, stood on the tiled gallery 
outside of their rooms at the hotel in Seville. 

Above them was the bluest of blue skies, below in 
the court was the luxuriance of palm and banana 
trees and an old fountain which was playing in a 
lazy and deliberate way, as if it felt that there was 
no need of haste and that a small jet followed by a 
dreamy plash and drip was more in keeping with 
its surroundings. 

“ ‘I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls,’ ” sang Phil 
as she joined them, adding: “And I never expected 
it to come true, but here the halls, the stair-cases 
and columns are of marble and it is like a palace. 
And the proprietors and servants are so agreeable, 
so different from those of Burgos and Madrid. I 
have heard that the people of Andalusia are gayer 
and lighter-hearted than those of Castile, and I be- 
lieve it.” 

“We are in Andalusia now, are we. Miss Fay?” 
asked Gerry. 

“Yes, dear; Andalusia is a division of Spain and 
is itself divided into eight provinces. Seville is in 
one of those provinces, of the same name as the city. 

236 

















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The tiled gallery in the hotel in Seville 2J(5 


























IN FAIR SEVILLE 


“Everybody who comes to Seville and who 
speaks Spanish repeats two lines,” she went on, 
“and I must not be an exception to the rule. It is a 
saying of the people, who are very proud of their 

city, 

"Quien no ha vista a Sevilla 
No ha vista a maravilla! 

and means that he who has not seen Seville has not 
seen a marvel.” 

“Why don’t the people here pronounce and spell 
the name of their city as we do?” asked Jack. 
“They say ‘Sayveelya’!” 

“Foreigners never pronounce the names of their 
cities as we do, as you should know very well. 
Jack,” said Gerry with a superior air. “Didn’t you 
hear Miss Fay pronounce ‘Madrid’ as the people 
say it? Why, it is like a ripe strawberry melting on 
the tongue.” 

“And now,” said Grandma, emerging from her 
room dressed in her best black silk and holding a 
square package in her hand, “let’s go down to the 
office and ask for Maria Custar and hand this box 
over to her.” 

They all went down together, but, to Mrs. 
Honeythorn’s consternation, the man at the desk 
declared there was no such person in the hotel as 
Miss Maria Custar nor had there ever been, at 
least not that year. 

“Tell him to think a minute, Phil,” said Grand- 
237 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


ma. “Tell him she is a girl with sharp black eyes 
and a sharp nose and that she must have come by 
this morning’s train.” 

The man consulted the proprietor, the proprie- 
tor consulted a waiter, the waiter consulted a maid 
and all agreed that no such person as the senorita 
described had come to the Hotel de Madrid. 

“She may have stopped on the way intending to 
come later,” said Phil, “so we can do nothing but 
wait.” 

“Then I’ll lock the box in my trunk,” said the 
old lady, “and let’s take a carriage ride.” 

Seville is like the fair city of a dream. All the 
houses are built around courts in the Moorish style 
with fountains and flowers in the center, which the 
passer-by can see through the latticed iron gates. 
At the outside windows are little verandas filled 
with flowers and frequently the head of a pretty 
senorita bends above them to talk to her birds whose 
cages hang on the outside walls. 

As they drove past a public square the driver 
pointed to a statue, saying with pride, “There is 
Esteban Murillo, who was born in this city.” 

“And well may Seville be proud of Murillo,” 
said Phil, “for he painted his own people to the life. 
Those children playing across the street look as if 
they had just stepped out of one of his pictures, 
though he lived three hundred years ago. Seville is 
also the birthplace of Velasquez, the great court 
painter.” 

238 





An old wall in Seville Page 2j8 



IN FAIR SEVILLE 


“I pitied him sometimes when I looked at his 
pictures in the Louvre,” remarked Mrs. Honey- 
thorn. 

“Why should you pity him?” asked Phil won- 
deringly. 

“Because that royal family he had to paint so 
often were so dreadful homely, with their heavy 
jaws, and no more expression than you can see on a 
tea-pot. You remember, Gerry, the picture of that 
little princess you thought was so queer? Well, 
Velasquez painted that. She was afterward Queen 
of France.” 

“Do you mean the little girl with the bow of 
pink ribbon on each of her curls and a handker- 
chief in one hand and a fan in the other?” asked 
Gerry eagerly. 

“Yes.” 

“Oh, I remember that picture very well. She 
was dressed in very poor taste, I thought,” said 
Gerry. 

“The artist was not to blame for her dress,” said 
Phil. “When you are older and are able to study 
fine pictures from the original paintings or from 
photographs, for every one should study them in 
some way, you will realize that Velasquez was a 
great painter.” 

“These Spanish people seem to be just devoured 
with curiosity as to what is goin’ on around them,” 
said Mrs. Honeythorn. “I noticed in Cordova and 
Madrid that if you’d stop to look in a shop window 
239 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


about fifty people would stop, too, to find out what 
it was you wanted to see. Now look at that young 
man across the street. 'He wants to say something 
private to that girl, I know he does, but those boys 
have lounged along and stopped to hear whatever 
it is, afraid they’ll miss something.” 

A young man was sitting on his horse under a 



A young man was sitting on his horse under a window 


window, talking to a pretty girl, who peeped at 
him shyly from over the flower-pots. They knew 
he was a bull-fighter from the long lock of hair 
which was braided and coiled at the back of his 
head, and also from his elaborately-embroidered 
bolero. 

“Doesn’t it look romantic?” said Phil. “I wish 
those boys would go away and allow the young man 
to make love in peace.” 


240 


IN FAIR SEVILLE 


Every morning an inquiry was made at the office 
if Miss Maria Custar had put in an appearance, 
but nothing was heard from that very singular 
young lady, nor was she to be found at any of the 
other hotels. The British consul was visited and 
inquiries regarding her were made, but he assured 
Mrs. Honeythorn that he knew no such person. 

“Anyhow,” said Grandma, “I am goin’ to leave 
this box of jewelry with you, for I never was so 
worried about anything in my life exceptin’ a baby 
that we carried off accidentally from a little town 
in the north of Spain. The girl who handed these 
diamonds to my grandson is from your country, 
and whether she was a thief or had come by ’em 
honestly is your affair more than mine. We will 
leave a letter in the hotel office, tellin’ her where 
they are, and that’s all we can do.” 

So the matter of “Jack’s diamonds,” as the others 
called them, was settled for the time being. 

In Seville they had a guide who clung to them 
like a burr; Jack called him the “Spanish-needle” 
from the recollection of the annoyance caused by 
that weed on his grandmother’s farm. This youth, 
who gave his name as Diego Harranz, had learned 
a little French, of which he was very proud, and 
his conversation was a mixture of two French to 
three Spanish words. He haunted the footsteps of 
our Americans. If they stepped outside of the hotel 
door there he was, always ready to conduct them 
wherever they wanted to go. 

241 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“Accordin’ to Diego there’s always a gate-keeper 
or somebody that’s got to be pacified with a peseta,” 
said Mrs. Honeythorn, “but I never see him give 
the money to anybody else, though I always give it 
to him. And one of the things he does that vexes 
me is when he goes with us somewhere in a street- 
car and chats with everybody aboard, for he seems 
to know every soul in this blessed town, and calls 
attention to us as if we were some peculiar kind of 
a show.” 

They visited the old church of Santa Maria de 
la Sede, with its curious old tower. “This is the 
largest church in the world with one exception,” 
said Phil, “and that is St. Peter’s Church in Rome.” 

“This is the best way to climb a tower that I’ve 
ever seen,” said Grandma as they went up the in- 
clined plane that leads to the top of the Giralda 
Tower. “The man that planned this church knew 
what he was about.” 

“It is certainly a more agreeable way to ascend 
than to climb steps,” said Phil. “This tower was 
built by the old Arab, El Ghebir. He was the in- 
ventor of Algebra, and having given the world 
such a hard nut to crack, he has made up for it by 
showing some consideration for the weary limbs 
of tourists.” 

As they were viewing the city and the silvery 
Guadalquivir from the top of the tower, Diego 
remarked to Phil in his jumble of two languages, 
“Senorita, visitors to the church are so pleased with 

242 


IN FAIR SEVILLE 


the easy manner in which the top of the tower is 
reached that they have been known to give some- 
thing extra to the guide to show their appreciation 
of the facility with which the tower is mounted.” 

“They are probably ignorant persons, who are 
under the impression that the guide built the 
tower,” replied Miss Fay sweetly. 

Diego was very fond of bragging and of striking 
attitudes. In the Alcazar he pointed to a spot in 
the floor and said impressively, “There, Senoras, is 
the spot on which Columbus stood when Isabel, 
the Catholic, gave him permission to discover 
America!” 

When they visited the House of Pilate, said to 
have been built in imitation of that of Pontius 
Pilate in Jerusalem, the guide, with a majestic 
wave of the hand toward the picture of a common 
barnyard fowl hanging on the wall, said pompous- 
ly, “There, Senoras, is a portrait of the cock that 
crowed three times, as mentioned in the Holy 
Scriptures.” 

They all laughed when Phil translated this state- 
ment, and Diego looked very much hurt, repeat- 
ing, “Yes, Senoras, it is the real one.” 

One night he called to take them to see some na- 
tive dancing. He had made his toilet with great 
care, his hair being very sleek and his tie more or 
less startling. He conducted them first to a gallery, 
where he calmly ordered refreshments for the 
whole party, including himself, at their expense. 

243 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


When they at last reached their seats he talked to 
every one around him, in the tier above and in the 
pit below, for it appeared that all of his acquaint- 
ances were present upon this occasion. Phil over- 
heard him allude to herself and Mrs. Honeythorn 
as two ladies of fabulous wealth from the state of 
Chicago, and the children as being fortunate in- 
dividuals, who played with gold nuggets and 
owned more mines than they could count. 

Not only was Diego acquainted with the au- 
dience, but he also knew the entire cast, and be- 
tween the acts he hung over the railing and chatted 
with such of the company as cared to peep from 
behind the drop curtain and listen to him. 

“He takes more liberties than the driver, who 
ordered the lunch on the Bois de Boulogne, Grand- 
ma,” said Jack, “and still you do not say a word to 
him.” 

“I guess it’s because he keeps me so surprised all 
the time I can’t think of anything to say. And he is 
mighty nice to me; he won’t let me carry a thing, 
not even a catalogue, and when we cross a street he 
holds out his hands on each side of me as if I was 
made of glass and might fall and break myself.” 

When the day of their departure came, Diego 
came to the hotel and assisted them into the omni- 
bus, dabbing his eyes with a yellow handkerchief 
as they rattled off toward the depot. 


244 


CHAPTER XX 


ON THE WING 

“What does this man want, Phil?” asked Mrs. 
Honeythorn after they had taken their seats in 
the train and a blue blouse still lingered in the 
aisle beside them. “What is he talkin’ about?” 
she continued as the man repeated for the third 
time, ^‘Seiiora, no tiene un poquito para me?” 

“He wants to know if you haven’t a little some- 
thing for him,” replied Phil; and Jack said, “I 
knew it was something about ‘little’ from that word 
"poquito,^ which they all say so much.” 

“Just ask him, will you, what he has done to get 
me into his debt,” said Grandma. 

“Oh, Senora,” said the man when this question 
was translated, “I carried your fan into the train.” 

“Ask him if it strained his back. I didn’t ask 
him to carry my fan. One man could have brought 
everything, and we’ve already paid four. Well, 
here’s a two-cent piece, and you’re paid high for 
your work at that.” 

“Where are we going. Grandma?” asked Gerry 
as the train began to move. 

“Don’t you know? We are going to Gibraltar, 
but to-night we stop at a town called Ronda.” 

There were more people than usual in their 
245 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 

compartment. A fat priest in a long robe and 
broad hat climbed in, murmuring apologetically 
that the other cars were all full. 

When they opened the very excellent lunch pre- 
pared for them at the hotel in Seville Gerry said, 
“I am going to offer some to this priest,” and 
forthwith she touched him on the arm. 

“Don’t,” said Phil, “he is saying his beads.” 

Nevertheless the reverend man turned and with 
a beaming smile waved his hands and shook his 
head to intimate that he did not care for refresh- 
ments. At the next station he left the train and re- 
turned with a bag of very small cakes covered with 
pink and white icing, which he politely offered to 
the others, and as they declined to take any, began 
to munch them himself. 

“They are such little bits of cakes for such a very 
large man,” said Gerry. 

“Don’t make remarks about him right under his 
nose like that, even if he can’t understand you. It 
makes a cold chill go over me to hear you,” said 
her grandmother. 

The small eyes of the reverend father twinkled ; 
Phil wondered if he understood, and remembering 
that priests are usually very well educated men, 
she thought it likely that this one understood Eng- 
lish. 

When some hours later he took up his satchel to 
leave the train Gerry, forgetting her grandmother’s 
admonition, said, “Oh, this priest is going! I am 

246 


ON THE WING 


so sorry, for his face is so shiny and good-natured 
that I liked to have him with us.” 

“Thank you, my dear little girl,” replied the 
priest with only a slight accent, “I, too, regret to 
part, for I have enjoyed your charming society.” 

Gerry colored and looked very much abashed, 
and the priest added kindly as he stepped to the 
platform, “There, do not mind, I am only an old 
man, fond of my joke.” 

“Mebby that will teach you to mind what I say 
after this,” said her grandmother severely. 

“I don’t think it was at all nice of him to let us 
go on talking and not tell us that he understood 
everything we said,” grumbled Gerry. 

“There was no law to compel him to say, ‘Watch 
out, now, and don’t talk about me,for I’ll under- 
stand every word of it.’ Just you be careful in the 
future about how you talk, no matter where you 
are.” 

The place left vacant by the departure of the 
priest was taken by a toreador, who first thrust in 
a huge bundle, then climbed in after it. 

“He is a bull-fighter — look at his hair,” said 
J ack in a low tone to his sister. 

The man wore an elaborately embroidered shirt 
fastened at the collar with two sets of jeweled but- 
tons, and down the front were three buttons thickly 
set with diamonds. 

“Isn’t he fixed up, though?” whispered Gerry to 
Jack. “But then he can afford it, for he gets four 

247 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


thousand pesetas every time he kills a bull. Do 
bull-fighters ever kill people?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Grandma, hold down your ear so I can whis- 
per. Do bull-fighters ever kill people?” 

“How you tickled my earl How do I know? I 
never was acquainted with any.” 

“But you were not acquainted with Queen Eliza- 
beth and you know everything that she did.” 

“I was interested in her history, but I haven’t 
read the lives of any of the people you are talkin’ 
about. And now be careful how you talk, for I 
don’t know what the consequences will be.” 

“What will they be. Grandma?” 

“Didn’t I just tell you I didn’t know?” 

“Whisper some more; Grandma, I wonder if 
this man can be a murderer? Perhaps he gets tired 
of killing just bulls all the time and wants to try 
his hand at something more interesting. I don’t 
think he would hurt us, for there are too many of 
us and it wouldn’t be worth his while to begin.” 

“Then stop worryin’ about it, Gerry.” 

“What is that he is taking out of his bundle. 
Grandma? Do you suppose it can be a knife?” 

But it proved to be a lunch, which, with a smile 
that made him look like a large, good-natured 
baby, the toreador offered to share with the Ameri- 
cans. They refused with thanks, and, much re- 
lieved to find that he was not an assassin, Gerry took 
some cake and fruit from their own lunch-basket, 

248 


ON I'HE WING 


which with eloquent motions she insisted upon his 
accepting. He finally did so with a smile that 
showed nearly all of his milk-white, even teeth. 

“I shouldn’t wonder if bull-fighters are real nice 
when you once know them,” confided Gerry to her 
grandmother. 



They were joined by a good-looking young Englishman 


“Very few people are as bad as we think they 
are,” was the reply. 

When the toreador left them they were joined by 
a good-looking young Englishman, who came from 
a more crowded compartment. He brought with 
him a mackintosh, an overcoat, a leather hat-box, a 
Gladstone, an umbrella, a cane and some other 
pieces of luggage, all of which were carried by 
Spaniards. He divided a handful of silver among 
them and afterward handed a small piece to one, 

249 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


who, mingling with the others, claimed, by gesticu- 
lations, that he had seen the gentleman’s cane safely 
aboard. 

“Clamorous set of beggars, aren’t they?” asked 
the young man, smiling pleasantly at Gerry. 

“Indeed they are, and that man did not carry 
your cane or any of your things, for I noticed him 
on the platform.” 

“I know it quite well, but it is easier to pay than 
to make a row, don’t you know?” 

“How did you know I could speak English?” 
asked Gerry. 

“How do I know that a thrush is a thrush?” he 
asked, laughing. “You do not look like a Spaniard 
or a Moor.” 

“But I might be French.” 

“You might be, but you are not.” 

“Then you think I am English, as you are your- 
self?” 

“How do you know that I am English? Perhaps 
I am an American, as you are yourself.” 

“I know that you are English, for one thing, be- 
cause you have so much baggage with you. Eng- 
lishmen always do wherever we see them.” 

“Then if I had no luggage you would think me 
an American, eh?” 

“An American gentleman travels with some bag- 
gage, of course,” replied Gerry with great dignity, 
“but he doesn’t load himself down with it. Then I 
can tell by the way you talk; you have a way of 

250 


ON THE WING 


lifting up your voice in the middle of a sentence 
when you ask a question instead of waiting until 
you come to the end of it as we do. But why do you 
think I am an American?” 

“Because of your air of independence,” he re- 
turned, flashing a laughing glance at Mrs. Honey- 
thorn, as much as to say, “You must not mind me, 
I am only teasing her,” 

“You must have noticed a good deal in a few 
minutes,” retorted Gerry, 

“Yes, like yourself, I draw conclusions with 
great rapidity. You are a descendant of that great 
crowd of English who crossed the sea and fought 
the mother country from the other side.” 

“You are talking about the Revolutionary War,” 
replied Gerry calmly. “You need not throw it up 
to me; I can’t help it because you were licked, 
though, of course, I can’t help being glad of it.” 

“Gerry,” said her grandmother sternly, “be care- 
ful how you talk. You must excuse her, sir; she 
has been spoiled and is apt to be a little bit too 
peart.” 

“It was I who invited the retort, Madame,” re- 
turned he, smiling. “I am sorry you do not like 
Englishmen,” he went on, turning to Gerry. 

“But I do like them very well. There are a great 
many wonderful dead Englishmen, and the love- 
liest woman I know, besides Grandma, and Miss 
Fay, of course, is a lady who lives in London.” 

“I am not acquainted with any dead English- 
251 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


men,” replied the gentleman soberly, “but I know 
more than one lovely English lady.” 

“I did not say that I knew any dead ones,” said 
Gerry, somewhat disgusted at what she considered 
his stupidity; “I only know what Grandma and 
Miss Fay said about them.” 

The stranger was so pleasant, there was such a 
sparkle of laughter in his eye when he tried to look 
serious, and his laugh was so contagious when he 
was amused, that he won the hearts of the children 
and their grandmother. 

“We have been talking a long time,” said Gerry 
after a while, “and we have not been introduced.” 

“True. As to my name, how would Alonzo Vere 
de Vere suit you?” 

“It suits me very well if you can stand it.” 

He laughed. “But I couldn’t stand it. Reginald 
Carew is quite long enough for me.” 

“And my name is Geraldine Craile, and, Mr. 
Carew, this is my grandma, Mrs. Honeythorn, and 
our friend. Miss Fay, and my brother Jack. I al- 
ways like to introduce people,” she added when 
Mr. Carew and the others had acknowledged the 
introduction. 

Their new acquaintance did all he could to make 
the time pass more pleasantly for the Americans. 
He had some new English magazines which inter- 
ested them for some time, and when they cared to 
read no longer he told the children many funny 
stories of Spain, for he had traveled a good deal in 

252 


ON THE WING 


that country. He had been staying in Gibraltar 
for some time, he said, with a brother who was a 
soldier there and who had been ill. He had been 
obliged to go back to England for a short time and 
was now returning to Gibraltar, for though his 
brother was improving, he did not yet feel quite 
easy about “the little chap,” as he called him. 

“We are going to stay in Gibraltar for a while,” 
said Gerry, “and we shall see you there. I am so 
glad.” 

“And I am glad to know that you are glad,” re- 
plied Mr. Carew. 

“We have been so lucky in the people we have 
had in the car with us to-day,” went on Gerry. 
“First we had such a lovely old priest, so fat and 
shiny; then we had just the nicest kind of a bull- 
fighter, — I wish you could have met him, — and 
now we have you !” 

“You certainly have been blessed in having a 
very select company! Which do I most resemble, 
the priest or the bull-fighter?” 

“Well, you are not at all like the priest, of course. 
He was very pious and was telling his beads or 
reading his prayer-book all the time when he was 
not eating little cakes.” 

“How do you know that I do not tell my beads 
and read my prayer-book when I am not eating 
cakes?” 

“I don’t know, of course, but you are not a 
priest.” 


253 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“Then of the two I most resemble the bull- 
fighter?” 

“Yes, I think you do.” 

“Thanks, very much.” 

“I mean that I believe you would not be afraid 
of a wild animal.” 

“You never can tell. A man may look very 
ferocious, and still tremble like a leaf when con- 
fronted by a real danger.” 

Gerry and Mr. Carew were having the conver- 
sation all to themselves. Mrs. Honeythorn was tak- 
ing a nap. Jack was reading a story, and Phil was 
gazing out of the window at the poppy fields that 
glowed crimson in the brilliant sunlight. Phil had 
taken off her hat and the breeze was playing with 
some curly locks of hair on her forehead, while it 
seemed to deepen the glow of her cheek. 

“We think Miss Fay is very pretty,” whispered 
Gerry as she saw her new acquaintance glance in 
Phil’s direction. “She is much prettier in white 
than she is in that brown dress, and I just wish you 
could see her in blue I” 


254 


CHAPTER XXI 


AN OLD TOWN AND A NEW ACQUAINTANCE 

Ronda is an old Moorish town in the mountains, 
surrounded by picturesque scenery. By some writ- 
ers it is supposed to be the spot where Caesar won a 
victory over the lieutenants of Pompey. 

Phil said their arrival reminded her of a badly- 
acted charade. As soon as they stepped off the 
train they were told that they must engage their 
rooms right then and there, and queries were 
shrieked in a loud voice, “How many rooms do 
you require?” “How many of you can occupy one 
room?” all in tones of such intense anxiety that 
Mrs. Honeythorn said, “I expect you’ll find sev- 
eral hundred people tryin’ to get into that hotel, 
and we’ll be lucky if we can get a roof over our 
heads.” 

But when they reached the hotel they found that 
there were no other guests. 

“Ain’t this the strangest thing you ever heard 
of?” asked Grandma of the young Englishman. 

He lifted his eyebrows and replied, “I am not 
surprised at anything in this country, you know.” 

No doubt the landlord thought he was serving a 
fine dinner that night, but his guests did not agree 
with him. The first course was mutton broth. “I 


255 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


can not eat this,” said Phil ; “I detest mutton in any 
form.” 

The next course was roast mutton, followed by a 
course all by itself of string beans flavored with 
mutton tallow, succeeded by roast partridge basted 
with the same grease. 

“I am afraid I shall be obliged to order boiled 
eggs,” said Phil mournfully. “You don’t think, do 
you, that there is any way by which the taste of 
mutton could be absorbed into a boiled egg?” 

“I don’t see how it could be managed,” replied 
Mrs. Honeythorn, “but I don’t think this landlord 
has much to learn about how to spoil food.” 

“This bread is as sour as it can be,” remarked 
Jack to Gerry. 

“Miss Fay,” said Gerry suddenly. 

“Yes, dear.” 

“Didn’t you tell me that in Pompeii there is 
bread that was made hundreds and hundreds of 
years ago?” 

‘-‘Yes, Gerry.” 

“And didn’t you say the Romans were in Ronda 
hundreds and hundreds of years ago?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, perhaps this bread was made by the Ro- 
mans, and that is why it is so sour.” 

“Nobody but a girl would say such a foolish 
thing,” said Jack. “Don’t you know that if the 
bread had been made for Julius Caesar it would be 
worth a thousand dollars or so a loaf? They 

256 


A NEW ACQUAINTANCE 


wouldn’t waste it on us ; they would put it in the 
British Museum or some such place as a curiosity.” 

Mr. Carew now sent for the proprietor, who un- 
derstood English. 

“Send a course of soft-hoiled eggs,” he ordered 
when mine host stood bowing at the end of the ta- 
ble. 

“Senor!” exclaimed the man horrified. “Eggs! 
They are for the breakfast, not for the comida, the 
dinner! And this dinner is fine, and there are other 
things coming.” 

“The dinner is fine, of course,” replied the Eng- 
lishman politely, “but we are from other countries 
and our taste, perhaps, is barbarous, but really, 
you know, we crave soft-boiled eggs at this mo- 
ment. And couldn’t you manage a salad without 
obliging us to return to our mutton?” 

The proprietor shrugged his shoulders until 
they seemed to scrape the tops of his ears, and went 
out, shaking his head, as one who feels that there is 
no accounting for the strange notions of foreign- 
ers. 

The eggs came, with an indifferent salad, fol- 
lowed by oranges and apricots. 

“It was a Spanish woman who first introduced 
salads into England,” remarked Mr. Carew. “It 
was Katherine of Aragon, and I hope she did not 
bring the recipe from Ronda.” 

“I know who Katherine of Aragon was,” said 
Gerry, who sat next to him. “She lost her head.” 

357 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“Being the wife of Henry the Eighth, she may 
have ‘lost her head’ more than once while involved 
in domestic disturbances,” returned Mr. Carew, 
“but the fair Howard was the Katherine who was 
beheaded.” 

After dinner the children, who had remained in 
the office with Mr. Carew, were attracted by some 
one singing. Going to the door they found on the 
gallery outside one of the oddest looking small 
boys it is possible to imagine, doing a song and 
dance. His large mouth when he smiled seemed 
to stretch from ear to ear, though his big dark 
eyes were mournful. Although not more than ten 
years old, he wore a pair of men’s shoes and a hat 
so large that it almost covered his eyes; but his 
face and hands were clean in spite of his shabby 
clothing. In spite of the fact that his shoes were 
large enough for a man six feet in height, he man- 
aged to swing them in the dance with great dexter- 
ity, and he looked so comical that Jack and Gerry 
screamed with laughter at his antics. 

The song was an attempt at English: “I don’t 
care for nobodda, and nobodda care for me.” 
When he had finished Mr. Carew gave him a 
peseta, which made his eyes sparkle, and stretched 
his mouth wider than ever. 

“You speak English, don’t you?” said Jack. 

“Yes, Sehor; I learned it from the good padre, 
who teaches me everything. Some day I go to Eng- 
land, where all are happy.” 

258 


A NEW ACQUAINTANCE 

“Aren’t you happy here?” asked Gerry. 

“No, Senorita; my grandmother beats me very 
hard when I bring her no pennies. See!” He 
showed a red welt across his hand, adding: “And 
there are more on my back. But she will not 
beat me to-night because of the money the worship- 
ful senor gave me.” 



Jack and Gerry screamed with laughter 


“Does she punish you because you spend your 
money for candy?” asked Gerry. 

“I give it all, every bit to her, Senorita; I do not 
know what it is that you ask me if I spend it for.” 

“You don’t know what candy is?” cried Gerry 
in round-eyed amazement. 

“He doesn’t know the English of it probably,” 
suggested Mr. Carew. 


259 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 

“Oh, Miss Fay,” said Gerry to Phil, who was 
looking over some ancient newspapers in the read- 
ing-room, “what is the Spanish for candy?” 

“Let’s see. I never talked about candy in Span- 
ish. Caramelos, dulces, confitar — ” 

But Gerry had vanished. Caramelosdulcescon- 
fitar,” she said, all in one word. “Did you ever eat 
any of it?” 

“I know what you mean, Senorita. I never have 
tasted it.” 

“He never tasted candy!” exclaimed Jack and 
Gerry in one breath. 

“He is in luck to get bread,” said the proprietor, 
who had joined them. “His name is Emilio Matias. 
He is a good boy, the padre says so, but his old 
grandmother beats him continually. He gives her 
all the money he gets from singing for tourists, but 
he won’t lie and steal for her, as she would like to 
have him do.” 

“Well,” said Gerry, “you take him out and give 
him his dinner, all that he can eat — perhaps he is 
fond of mutton — and you can charge it to us.” 

“But I do not know if the ladies would be will- 
ing,” began the landlord, when Mr. Carew inter- 
rupted with, “Put it down to my account.” 

“No, Mr. Carew,” said Gerry with her grown- 
up air, “I invited him, and my grandmother never 
in her life refused anybody something to eat. But 
to satisfy the proprietor I will ask her.” 

She ran up stairs and into the room where her 

260 


A NEW ACQUAINTANCE 


grandmother lay on the bed, reading the guide- 
book to see what it said about Ronda. 

“Oh, Grandma,” said she, “there’s a poor boy 
down stairs, and he can sing and dance as cute as 
can be, and his grandmother beats him till the 
blood comes, and his face and hands are clean, and 
I have invited him to dinner, and the landlord 
seemed to think you wouldn’t like to pay the bill, 
but you’ll love to, won’t you, dear honey Grand- 
ma?” 

“Gerry, how many times have I told you not to 
pop into a room like that and fire a lot of words at 
me without takin’ a breath? Now tell it over nice 
and quiet and ladylike and I’ll give you an an- 
swer.” 

So Gerry repeated Emilio’s story and her invita- 
tion, and Grandma said, “Tell the landlord to give 
him the best he has, and I only hope all that mut- 
ton flavorin’ won’t make him sick.” 

Gerry flew back to the office, where the proprie- 
tor was waiting, and who now very willingly took 
the Spanish boy to the dining-room and served him 
in state — charging accordingly. 

While Emilio was still in the dining-room Jack 
said wistfully, “I wish we could buy him a new 
suit of clothes. Wouldn’t his grandmother be sur- 
prised? I don’t believe she would want to beat him 
if he were dressed like the son of a gentleman.” 

“Let us take him to a shop and fit him out,” sug- 
gested Mr. Carew. “I want to invest something in 

261 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 

the little chap, and there is nothing else to do just 
now. Perhaps the ladies would like to accompany 
us?” 

But Jack, who had been sent to interview them 
upon the subject, returned, saying that his grand- 
mother was too fatigued to take the trip, and that 
Miss Fay had refused on the ground that she knew 
nothing about boys’ suits and consequently would 
be of very little assistance. 

The dinner so scorned by the other guests was a 
banquet to Emilio, and he emerged from the din- 
ing-room wearing an expression of supreme satis- 
faction. He was almost speechless when told that 
he was to have some new clothes and joyously 
guided them to a tailor’s shop. 

Fortunately the tailor had on hand a suit which 
had been made for the son of a tourist, but which 
had failed to please the unreasonable people who 
had ordered it. While not a perfect fit, it did very 
well, and Mr. Carew paid for it at once. At an- 
other shop underwear and stockings were pur- 
chased, with a red silk tie, which made Emilio 
gasp with ecstasy. Next came the shoes, and at the 
hat store the boy was allowed to make his own 
selection, which was an odd one, — a gray and black 
striped silk cap with a visor of the kind sometimes 
purchased by tourists to protect their hair from the 
dust. 

With all these articles under his arm Emilio 
was told to go into the back room of the shop and 

262 


A NEW ACQUAINTANCE 

change his clothes, and it seemed to be another boy 
who appeared a short time afterward. He was 
almost handsome and there was not a happier boy 
in all Spain. 

But he carried his old clothes under his arm ; his 
grandmother would not like to have him leave 
them, he said. He bade them good-by with tears 
in his eyes and the others returned to the hotel very 
well satisfied with their hour of shopping. 

Mr. Carew bade them good-by that night, as he 
was to take an early train, but he said that he would 
see them in Gibraltar, where they were all to stop 
at the same hotel. He said he was anxious that 
Gerry should know his sister, who was very fond 
of little girls. 

The children were very happy about what had 
been done for the Spanish boy, but the next day 
when they were out walking with their grand- 
mother and Miss Fay they had a shock. 

As they were passing a little posada, or inn, be- 
hold Emilio singing and dancing in the same 
dreadful clothes he had worn when they first saw 
him, with not a rag missing! 

“I supposed he would not want to wear that suit 
any more, but perhaps he is saving the other one for 
Sunday,” said Gerry. 

As soon as he perceived the Americans, Emilio 
ran after them. “I could not keep the beautiful 
things the gentleman gave me,” he said, his eyes 
filling with tears. “My grandmother sold them.” 

263 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“I wonder if he is tellin’ us this to make us buy 
some more,” said Mrs. Honeythorn in a low tone. 
But the boy overheard her. 

“I do not tell lies, Senora,” said he. “Here is 
the padre who will say that I speak always the 
truth.” And they saw a priest approaching who 
was intently reading his prayer-book as he strolled 
along. 

Emilio spoke his name and the priest paused to 
learn what the boy wanted. 

“Emilio speaks the truth,” said he in English 
and with a very agreeable voice. “The clothes were 
sold last night and it would be useless to purchase 
them again, as they would only go the same way. 
There is but little that can be done for the child 
under the present conditions. I am teaching him, 
for he is unusually bright, but there is nothing 
more that I can do.” 

“I should think you might give that lovin’ grand- 
mother of his a good talkin’ to,” observed Mrs. 
Honeythorn. 

The priest smiled sadly. “I have done what I 
could, Senora, but there is little that can be done 
with men or women who are addicted to drink.” 

“Why, this is dreadful!” exclaimed Mrs. Honey- 
thorn. “I’m afraid she will kill him some day.” 

“I should like to send him far away from here,” 
said the padre, “and I shall do so as soon as he is 
old enough to go.” 

“Oh, why can’t we take him with us to Gibraltar 

264 


A NEW ACQUAINTANCE 

and get something for him to do there?” asked 
Jack. 

“Hush, Jacky! We can’t go round carryin’ off 
children.” 

“His grandmother has been beating him again!” 
exclaimed Gerry. “Just look at that cut on his poor 
little cheek! Please, Grandma, let’s take him away 
with us!” 

“We’ll see. Do you think, sir, that we could find 
something for him to do in Gibraltar to support 
himself?” 

“It is more than likely, Senora. He could be a 
bell-boy at a hotel or there are a number of things 
he could do by which he could earn a better living 
than he makes here.” 

“Then we will take him and if nothing can be 
found in Gibraltar for him to do we will send him 
back here to you and he will have a little trip, any- 
how. But we shall have to settle with his grand- 
mother and get his clothes again. Do you know 
where they are, young man?” 

The boy nodded vigorously, and it was agreed 
that the priest should take a small sum of money 
from Mrs. Honeythorn to old Margarita to obtain 
her consent to part with her grandson. This mat- 
ter of business was satisfactorily arranged, and, 
once more in his new suit, Emilio was again the 
happiest boy in the sunny peninsula. 

“Things in Spain seem to stick to us somehow,” 
remarked Grandma on their way to Gibraltar. “A 
26s 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


baby, a box of diamonds, and now this boy. Who 
knows what will be next?” 

When Emilio was told that this kind, rosy- 
cheeked old lady was the children’s grandmother 
he became speechless with amazement. A grand- 
mother who did not scold, who did not threaten and 
fight and scream and swear was a marvel to him. 



Emilio was the happiest boy in the sunny peninsula 


Every time she spoke he listened with absorbed at- 
tention, as if afraid to miss a word; he waited on 
her like a little slave, and if she dropped her hand- 
kerchief or her spectacle case he restored them be- 
fore she had time to notice her loss. 

“What are you lookin’ at me so steady about?” 
she asked, as Emilio sat on the opposite seat, gazing 
at her with his big solemn eyes. 

266 


A NEW ACQUAINTANCE 

“Because you are so good and so beautiful,” he 
replied. 

Grandma was mightily amused at this answer. 
“There,” said she, “a body don’t have to be young 
to get compliments; but I’m afraid that with my 
spectacles and all these wrinkles I wouldn’t quite 
do for the heroine of a novel.” 

“And your hair is always as smooth as the hair 
of a young lady,” went on the Spanish boy, who, 
having been asked a question, felt that he ought to 
answer it in full. 

“Grandma,” said Gerry in a low tone, “you 
won’t send him back to Ronda, even if we don’t 
find a place for him, will you? We must manage 
some way, even if we have to take him straight 
through with us.” 

“I don’t know how your Aunt Eleanor would 
like that. She sent for two children, and I don’t 
know what she would say to a big-eyed Spanish 
boy in addition.” 

“But, Grandma, don’t you think you can fix it 
some way?” 

“Well, I can tell you one thing, he’s never goin’ 
back to that old woman again, that’s settled. I’d 
feel it on my conscience if I sent him back to her.” 


267 


CHAPTER XXII 


IN GIBRALTAR AND MOROCCO 

The Rock of Gibraltar, which “crouches like a 
lion at the feet of Spain,” has a history of its own 
and Phil told the children how it had been besieged 
by the Moors against the Spaniards, and Spaniards 
against Spaniards, and how two hundred years ago 
it had been captured by the English who have re- 
tained it ever since, there being a small army of 
soldiers stationed there and cannon from the bot- 
tom to the top of the Rock. 

They arrived at the Royal Hotel in time for the 
one o’clock dinner, which was in glaring contrast 
to the atrocious Ronda bill of fare. 

In the afternoon they took a carriage ride over a 
road which is cut into the Rock and goes around 
three sides of it a number of times. 

The residences, set among graceful palm trees, 
were painted in light tints, with red roofs, and the 
variety of flowers was only equaled by the variety 
of people, for there were dusky Moors in white 
robes and turbans, picturesque Spaniards, British 
soldiers in their scarlet uniforms or Highland cos- 
tumes, and in the bright sunshine this brilliant riot 
of color presented a scene of light and gaiety. 

And imagine if you please the delight of Emilio, 

268 


IN GIBRALTAR AND MOROCCO 


who, until this trip, had never even tasted whole- 
some food, and for whom life had been nothing but 
rags and wretchedness, now dressed in good clothes 
and seated on the box beside the driver, taking in 
the beauty of all he saw with all the wonder of a 
being who has been wafted to a new world. 

Returning late in the afternoon they were 
amused to see the little brown goats lying on the 
pavements before the doors while being milked. 

“They are cunnin’ little things,” remarked Mrs. 
Honeythorn, “but I don’t like their milk. I know 
that it is in a cup of coffee before it gets within a 
yard of me.” 

When they entered the corridor of the hotel 
Gerry surprised the others by rushing toward a 
lady of distinguished appearance who was dressed 
in a plain suit of dark blue cloth. 

“Why, it is little Geraldine!” exclaimed the 
lady, and kissed Gerry affectionately on both 
cheeks. 

“This is my Grandma, Mrs. Honeythorn, Lady 
Castlemere, and my brother Jack and Miss Fay 
and Emilio Matias,” said Gerry, who was dancing 
with delight at once more finding her friend. 

“I received a note from you thanking me for 
what we had done for your granddaughter, Mrs. 
Honeythorn,” said Lady Castlemere, shaking 
hands cordially, “but, believe me, you owe us no 
thanks, for we were pleased to meet Geraldine and 
to hear her merry chatter.” 

269 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“I am glad if she didn’t worry you, for she is a 
good deal of a talker,” replied Grandma. 

At Lady Castlemere’s request Geraldine re- 
mained with her while the others went to their 
apartments. “And now, Geraldine,” said she, 
drawing Gerry to the sofa beside her, “tell me what 
you have been doing since we met.” 

“We have been seeing a great many things. Lady 
Castlemere. We went to France first and I think 
we saw the tombs of everybody who ever died 
there, for, as I told you before. Grandma is very 
fond of such things. But we saw where a good 
many people had been born, which is much pleas- 
anter, I think. At St. Germain-en-Laye, where 
Louis the Fourteenth was born, we had luncheon 
on the loveliest terrace and we had such good — but 
I must not tell you what we had, for Grandma 
would not like it.” 

“Why not?” asked her friend, considerably 
amused. 

“She says that people who travel in Europe and 
talk of what they had to eat have brains no better 
than common putty. Because, you see, there are 
other things to talk about and it is not as if one had 
been to a picnic or a party at home. 

“We have had a lovely time in Spain, though 
Grandma says the pillows are terrible and the 
bread — but there I go again. We saw La Rabida 
where Columbus once stopped, you know, but I 
dare say you would not care about it, for it was not 

270 


IN GIBRALTAR AND MOROCCO 


your country that he discovered. We saw into the 
homes of some of the poor and the floors are of cob- 
blestones and they haven’t half as good a place to 
stay as the king’s horses have. I think the donkeys 
in Spain are the cutest things! And it’s fun to see 
how the people sling loaves of bread around and 



Turning, Gerry saw Mr. Carew himself 


carry them in their arms, just as Grandma’s hired 
men carry kindling wood. 

“I didn’t like Ronda one bit, but we met such a 
nice gentleman on our way there. His name was 
Mr. Carew. Grandma and Jack and I thought he 
was just splendid, but I don’t think Miss Fay liked 
him very well.” 

“I am glad that somebody appreciated me,” said 
a voice, and turning Gerry saw Mr. Carew himself 
standing in the doorway. He came forward and 

27t 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


shook hands with her, saying, “I want to know how 
you so suddenly arrived at such good terms with 
my sister.” 

“Is he really your brother. Lady Castlemere, or 
is he trying to tease me?” asked Gerry. 

“Yes, dear, he is really and truly my eldest 
brother.” 

“Then that is why he is so nice.” 

“That explains it,” said he. “I often have won- 
dered why I am so nice. But I am sorry to hear 
that Miss Fay is blind to my merits.” 

“Oh, dear!” said Gerry. “I am always saying 
something I am sorry for. I only thought so be- 
cause she did not talk to you very much and be- 
cause she wouldn’t go with us when we bought 
Emilio’s clothes the first time.” 

“The first time? How many times was it neces- 
sary to buy that suit?” 

“Well, you see, his grandmother sold them ; then 
my grandmother bought them again and she let the 
priest pay something for him and we have brought 
Emilio with us to Gibraltar.” 

A servant now came in with a note, saying to the 
young man, “The bearer waits. S’ Reginald.” 

“How queer that the servant should call your 
brother by his first name,” remarked Gerry to 
Lady Castlemere when they were again alone. 

“He called my brother by his title, dear. Sir 
Reginald.” 

“And we have been calling him plain Mister! 

272 


IN GIBRALTAR AND MOROCCO 


Well, it was his own fault, — ^why didn’t he tell us 
he was a ‘Sir’?” 

“Oh, he did not mind, and he was plain ‘Mister’ 
until the death of an uncle two years ago gave him 
the title.” 

Then Lady Castlemere told Gerry of the illness 
of the younger brother, which had called them both 
to Gibraltar, and said that he was now much better 
but not able to leave his room. 

All were contented at Gibraltar. Mrs. Honey- 
thorn said she could not wish for a more comfort- 
able hotel where almost everybody spoke English ; 
Gerry was happy with her dear Lady Castlemere, 
who took her riding and bought her all sorts of 
pretty things at the shops; Jack found plenty to 
amuse him and Sir Reginald seemed to have for- 
given Miss Fay for disliking him, for he took her 
out a great deal and seemed determined to make 
her have a good time. 

Gerry was greatly puzzled by the fact that Sir 
Reginald kept a servant, a valet, just to wait upon 
him and nobody else. “I don’t see what there is for 
him to do,” she said one day. 

“Well, you see, he curls my hair,” replied Sir 
Reginald gravely. 

She gave a contemptuous glance at his smooth 
dark locks. “Then all I can say is that he makes a 
very poor job of it, for it is as straight as it can be. 
The curls must come out before you leave your 
bedroom.” 


273 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 

“They can’t come out of the room before I do, 
because, you see, I don’t wear a wig,” he replied. 
“I am surprised that you should accuse me of such 
a thing.” 

“I didn’t mean that at all. I don’t know why it is, 
but you don’t seem to understand half that I say to 
you. You are not this way with Miss Fay.” 

“I do not understand Miss Fay half as well as I 
do you.” 

“If you will tell her to explain things to you as 
she does to us I know you could understand her,” 
said Gerry. 

Jack thought he never would tire of Gibraltar 
and that it must be the finest thing in the world to 
be a soldier stationed there, where the different na- 
tions of people in the streets seem like a continuous 
circus procession, and where an officer has nothing 
to do but change his clothes a great many times a 
day and engage in sham battles. 

One afternoon they were invited to tea in an of- 
ficer’s quarters and it was odd to see a major in his 
smart uniform pouring tea, while a captain cut 
cake for the guests. And Grandma said it was the 
best tea she ever tasted and that it made her feel 
like a different woman, and Jack told her he hoped 
she never would be a bit different from what she 
was and had been, which the major said was a very 
pretty compliment and that he would say it him- 
self to some lady, if opportunity ever offered. 

“Lady Castlemere says we should go to Tangier 

274 


IN GIBRALTAR AND MOROCCO 


by all means, Grandma,” said Gerry one day. Mrs. 
'Honeythorn replied, “I think so, too, if it’s for 
nothing more than to say that we’ve set our feet on 
African soil. It only takes a few hours to cross the 
strait, they say, and I think we’ll go to-morrow.” 

They were joined by Sir Reginald, who, though 
he had been to Tangier a number of times, was 
anxious to go again. 

“It makes me feel so queer and so far from home 
to see the coast of Spain, the Rock of Gibraltar and 
Africa all at once,” said Jack, as they were steam- 
ing across the strait. “And, oh, Grandma!” he 
cried with the next breath, “just look at that whale! 
And he is spouting, too, as I’ve seen them in pic- 
tures P 

The captain of the boat was an Englishman. He 
had a pet monkey with him which amused the chil- 
dren very much, and he told them that he believed 
the monkeys had an underground passage from 
Africa to Gibraltar which they traveled over 
whenever they felt so inclined, for sometimes there 
were a good many in Gibraltar and at others 
scarcely any, “and they don’t engage passage in my 
ship to come back,” he said with a fat laugh. 

There was some excitement furnished during the 
trip by a tall Spaniard who fell overboard. Several 
Moors were on the ship and when the accident oc- 
curred they all flew to that side of the vessel and 
began screaming advice in Arabic to the Spaniard 
without offering any assistance, and it was an Eng- 
275 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


lish sailor who plunged in and rescued the man, 
who came out very wet and pale with fright. 

As they entered the harbor at Tangier, other 
Moors came out in little boats to the vessel to take 
them ashore. Their white garments fluttering in 
the breeze, these dusky fellows sprang aboard, 
shrieking at such a rate that Phil said she felt as if 
she were about to be captured by pirates. 

“And here I am in Africa!” said Mrs. Honey- 
thorn as soon as her feet touched the dirty streets 
of Tangier. “I never would have believed that I’d 
come to this country, and I’m expectin’ every min- 
ute to wake up and find it a dream. Seems as 
though I’d never get used to travelin’ and the 
strangeness of it.” 

Emilio, who was carrying her satchel and wrap 
and who never was happier than when waiting on 
“the gracious senora,” as he called her, now handed 
her a bottle of smelling-salts, probably fearing that 
she might be overcome by her strange sensations. 

Tangier was the strangest city they had yet seen ; 
in the streets were Moors in their fantastic cos- 
tumes and women who concealed the lower part of 
the face from the gaze of the public; and once in a 
while they saw a man bringing water from the 
mountains in a goat-skin bag, as it was carried in 
the Holy Land centuries before Christ. 

To go from these strange sights to a handsome 
modern hotel was, Phil said, like beholding the far- 
away dead past clasp hands with the living present. 

276 



Tangier was the strangest city they had yet seen Page 2-j6 






















IN GIBRALTAR AND MOROCCO 


The city is situated on the side of a hill and from 
their rooms they had a fine view of the water. Al- 
though it was summer-time the weather was de- 
lightful, the climate being perfect in this favored 
spot. 

“And now,” said Sir Reginald, as soon as they 
had finished their midday meal, “we must take a 
ride into the country.” 

“I don’t see any carriages anywhere,” said Mrs. 
Honeythorn. 

“My dear lady, this is no place for carriages or 
motor cars. We shall ride mules.” 

“Then I’ll have to stay here. I used to be a first- 
rate horseback rider, but I haven’t been on a horse 
for twenty-five years to my certain knowledge, and 
for me to be perched on a mule at my age would 
be scandalous.” 

“It will be neither scandalous nor dangerous, 
Mrs. Honeythorn. Just leave it all to me and you 
never will regret the ride.” And Sir Reginald went 
off gaily to make arrangements. 

In less than twenty minutes the mules were ready 
for them, those intended for the ladies having sad- 
dles so formed that the rider faced the side of the 
mule with a step upon which to rest both feet. 
There was a Moor to drive each mule and they 
started off, each driver crying “Ar-r-r-rah, 
ar-r-r-r-ah,” at the top of his voice. These Moors 
were very good-natured, laughing joyously when 
spoken to and gathering wild-flowers for the ladies. 

277 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“Just look there!” cried Mrs. Honeythorn. 
“Pink and red geraniums — whole hedges of ’em as 
high as my head and growin’ wild — and think of 
the coaxin’ they have to have in my yard! I guess a 
seed dropped on the ground in this country will 
take root and do its very best without bein’ 
watched.” 

During this ride they met a caravan of camels, 
which had come from the interior of the country; 
and they stopped a while, at a safe distance, to 
watch a snake-charmer who fearlessly handled and 
played tricks with his reptiles. 

They also saw a story-teller, a hideous man cov- 
ered with strings of shells and beads, and Gerry 
said, “I shouldn’t like to listen to his stories even if 
I could understand them, for I know they would 
keep me awake nights.” 

That night Jack went through the streets with 
Sir Reginald, the two being conducted by a man 
with a lantern. Occasionally they ran across what 
they supposed to be a bundle of rags in the street, 
which proved to be a Moor sitting with his hands 
clasped about his knees and sleeping as sweetly as 
if he had been in a comfortable bed. 

The next morning they visited the Moorish 
bazaar, where Grandma bought some queer-smell- 
ing red-leather cushions embroidered with colored 
silks, Phil a silver chain set with purple stones, and 
Gerry a string of perfumed beads. When Mrs. 
Honeythorn’s back was turned Jack bought a pres- 

278 



They also saw a story-teller, a man covered with strings of shells 
and beads Pa^e 2^8 






























IN GIBRALTAR AND MOROCCO 


ent for her, which was put in a box and carried 
carefully under his arm back to the hotel. 

“Here is a present for you, Grandma,” cried her 
grandson as soon as they entered their rooms. “I re- 
membered the number you wear and I think they’re 
the finest things of the kind you’ve ever had.” 

Grandma thanked him and opening the box took 



Jack went through the streets with Sir Reginald 

from it a pair of scarlet slippers embroidered with 
gold. 

'“Let’s try them on,” said the donor, and kneeling 
at her feet he untied and slipped off her shoes and 
adjusted the flaming slippers. 

“They fit exactly, don’t they. Grandma?” cried 
the boy delightedly. 

“They couldn’t be a better fit, but they’re a little 
fancy for me, don’t you think? If I wear ’em 

279 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


round the house at home the most important part 
of me will be my feet, you see.” 

“Oh, that doesn’t matter,” he returned easily. 
“Perhaps some day I will get you a dress to match 
them. Nothing is too pretty for you. Grandma. 
And when you have those slippers on you can put 
out your feet and watch all those gold spangles 
glisten.” 

“And you didn’t buy one thing for yourself! 
You are a good boy, Jacky, to think of your old 
grandmother, and I’ll keep these slippers as long 
as I live.” 

They returned to Gibraltar that afternoon, and, 
as they were thinking about going on to Granada, 
the question arose, “What shall we do with 
Emilio?” 

“Considering his opportunities I never have seen 
a brighter boy,” said Phil. “It is a great pity that 
he must be left here as a servant, and we would 
have no assurance that he would always be well 
treated.” 

“He thinks so much of me that I feel that it 
wouldn’t be doin’ right to do no more than get him 
a place and then go off and leave him,” said Mrs. 
Honey thorn. 

Sir Reginald, who had been present during this 
discussion, said later, “My sister is willing to take 
charge of the Spanish boy. She will take him to 
London when she goes and place him in a boy’s 
school there in which she is interested, and after- 

280 


IN GIBRALTAR AND MOROCCO 


ward he shall study a profession, and find some 
suitable employment.” 

This was a delightful solution of the difficulty 
and Emilio was pleased to hear that he would be 
under the care of the beautiful English lady, 
though he cried' bitterly when parting from the 
“gracious senora.” 

The children ran to Sir Reginald’s room to bid 
him farewell, but they found him all ready to ac- 
company them, while his valet was hastily locking 
a trunk or “box,” as he called it. “You don’t get 
rid of me so easily,” said Sir Reginald gaily. “I 
never have seen Granada in the summer-time and 
might as well do so now while I am able to travel 
with good company.” 

Gerry shed tears when parting from her dear 
Lady Castlemere, but was comforted by the assur- 
ance that they would meet again in Paris. 


281 


CHAPTER XXIII 


BEAUTIFUL GRANADA 

Granada is a garden where the fig and palm trees 
flourish, the cactus grows tall, the pomegranate 
trees are aflame with bloom and the poppies cover 
the fields with a mantle of scarlet. 

Just before they reached the city of Granada 
they saw the sun set on the snow-capped Sierra 
Nevada, showing a transformation of color from a 
deep crimson to a gray blue. 

■ “Once it looked just like the cake you baked for 
my last birthday. Grandma!” said Gerry. “That 
was when it was all a lovely pink.” 

“Yes, honey, but you must not compare anything 
grand and beautiful like a mountain to a common 
thing like a cake. See all that’s grand in nature 
and think of it just that way, for it’s only too easy 
to come down to earth again.” 

It was dark when they reached their journey’s 
end. They had made up their minds to stop at the 
Washington Irving Hotel, and for once the chil- 
dren had no need of their guide-book. 

“Oh, we know about that,” cried Gerry; “the 
Alhambra and Sleepy Hollow and dear old Rip !” 

They were driven up the hill leading to the hotel 
in a kind of express wagon with cross-seats, and 

282 


BEAUTIFUL GRANADA 


their driver, who seemed to be intoxicated or in- 
sane, shrieked and yelled at the top of his voice at 
the horses and asked his passengers a dozen times 
if they wished to go to the “Wash’ ton Irving.” He 
knocked one of Sir Reginald’s valises out of the 
wagon and ran over it, greatly to the disgust of that 
gentleman’s valet, who wondered “ ’ow any self- 
respecting person could want to travel in such a 
’arf-civilized country.” Altogether it was a most 
exciting ride. 

As soon as breakfast was over the next morning 
they visited the Alhambra. “What was the Alham- 
bra used for?” asked Jack. “Was it a church?” 

“I think Sir Reginald can tell you about it better 
than I can,” said Phil, “for this is not his first visit 
and he must be familiar with its history.” 

“I never was a dab at explaining things, you 
know,” replied the Englishman good-naturedly, 
“but I will do my best. 

“As nearly as I can remember the Alhambra was 
begun by an old chap, a Moor, you know, with a 
disagreeably long name, in the middle of the thir- 
teenth century and was finished by his grandson 
over sixty years later. The first man had his motto 
put everywhere on the walls, ‘There is no con- 
queror but Allah.’ He was a modest man, you see, 
and he didn’t like it when his subjects saluted him 
as a conqueror, but reminded them that the real 
conqueror was God. 

“Then the Spaniards under Ferdinand and Isa- 

283 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


bella drove the Moors out of Spain and they were 
so narrow-minded as to put whitewash over all the 
mottoes. Then their grandson, Charles the Fifth, 
who was an egotistical old beggar, tried to change 
the interior of the Alhambra to suit himself and 
without adding to its beauty, you may be sure. It 
has since been neglected and abused, but is still a 
noble structure, as you will see. It was a fortress- 
palace with its protecting walls, but the interior 
must have been like fairy-land in the time of the 
Moors, a people who loved luxury.” 

“I wish we could go through the Alhambra 
without a guide at our heels,” said Phil. 

“That is an impossibility,” said Sir Reginald. 
“The guide you must have with you always and he 
will not leave you for a moment, lest in a mad de- 
sire to see a conflagration you should set the build- 
ing on fire.” 

Their guide conducted them through the differ- 
ent halls and courts, talking rapidly all the while. 
As Phil translated his words they seemed to see the 
lovely sultanas and proud monarchs who once had 
lived within these lace-like walls and had glided 
between these graceful columns. 

They went to the Gate of Justice, upon which 
are engraved the hand and key, symbolic of a say- 
ing of the Moors that the Christians never could 
enter the Alhambra until the hand came down and 
grasped the key. 

Sir Reginald told them the story of the astrologer 

284 





The next morning they visited the Alhambra Page 284 

















BEAUTIFUL GRANADA 


who once disappeared with a princess under this 
gate straight into the ground, and, although the 
king caused the ground to be dug into for a great 
distance, no trace of the missing ones could be 
found, though sometimes in the dead of night the 
princess could be heard playing her guitar, “So 
they say,” added Sir Reginald, 

“I am coming out to-night to hear it,” said Jack. 

“Just excuse me,” said his grandmother, “but I 
don’t think you’ll do anything of the kind. We 
can’t keep things from happenin’ to you in a quiet, 
calm hotel where everybody is respectable and I 
wouldn’t trust you alone in this crazy kind of a 
country, where a gypsy might carry you off, or 
where, as like as not, you’d go to work to try some 
kind of a fool experiment.” 

They now wandered down the long road that led 
to the city, and rested on a stone bench. Over the 
road towered tall trees a hundred feet in the air, 
touching each other at the top. On either side 
rushed mountain streams, clear as crystal, their rip- 
ple mingling with the songs of many birds. A 
priest wearing a long black robe and broad hat, 
reading his breviary as he walked, strolled along, 
looking up to salute gravely two pretty senoritas 
with mantilla-draped heads who, when they had 
passed him, paused childishly to dabble their hands 
in the limpid water. 

A little farther up was a picturesque group of 
gypsies; presently two of the gypsy girls, wearing 
28s 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


the bright colors and large ear-rings so loved by 
the women of their race, come toward them. One 
of them said something to Sir Reginald, which 
Phil translated: “She wants to know if the brave 
gentleman will have his fortune told.” 

“Certainly,” he replied, holding out his hand, 
“ask her, please, how many times I have been mar- 
ried.” 

The girl shrugged her shoulders and made a re- 
ply which Miss Fay said was to the effect that the 
gentleman never had been married and never 
would be, should he continue to be so hard to 
please. 

Then she told Phil’s fortune, which made that 
young lady laugh and blush very much, but not a 
word would she reveal of what the gypsy had told, 
though Sir Reginald said it was not at all fair when 
all had heard what she said to him. 

The other gypsy now took Jack’s hand and told 
him that he would receive a letter in two days and 
that he would one day be a rich man with a large 
and handsome wife. 

“But I don’t want a large wife,” said he discon- 
tentedly, adding: “but I don’t believe she knows a 
thing that will happen.” 

“You can make up your mind she don’t,” said 
his grandmother. “Nobody in this world knows 
what’s goin’ to happen the next minute.” 

Nevertheless Gerry insisted that her fortune 
should be told and she learned that she was a good 

286 


BEAUTIFUL GRANADA 


little girl who was fond of sweets and ready to con- 
verse without any great encouragement. 

“I knew all that before and it is not worth paying 
a peseta for,” said Gerry. 

“You knew that you were good, did you?” asked 
her brother. “Well, you are the only one who did 
know it.” 

“I am as good as most people, isn’t it so, Grand- 
ma?” 

“You have your faults, as everybody has, but 
you’re a pretty good child, as a rule.” 

“Thank you. Grandma; I knew you would take 
my part. And now mayn’t I go and dip my hands 
in that stream of water?” 

“Now, why?” 

“I saw that lady do it and it looked so cool.” 

“I guess you can, if you’ll take care not to get 
yourself all splashed up. I s’pose I’m lucky that 
you don’t ask to wade in it.” 

So Gerry and Jack played in the water, which 
was the melted snow of the mountains, and after- 
ward wiped their hands on their handkerchiefs 
with great satisfaction. 

In the meantime their grandmother was ap- 
proached by an odd-looking man who wore a 
pointed hat, a short jacket and a row of brass but- 
tons down the outside seams of his trousers. After 
a number of bows he handed his photograph to her 
with a gesture which signified that she should buy 
it. 

287 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


“I don’t see why I should want his picture,” said 
Grandma. “I’d just as lief have one of a monkey 
dressed up. Just ask him, Phil, who he is, and why 
he should think I’d want anything to remember 
him by.” 

When this question was translated the man 



“Senorita, soy el principe de los gitanosl’ 


straightened himself up haughtily and striking 
himself on the chest exclaimed, '"Senorita, soy el 
principe de los gitanos!’^ 

“He says that he is the prince of the gypsies,” 
translated Phil. 

“A body would think he was the King of Spain 
at the very least, the way he acts,” said Mrs. 
Honeythorn, “but at any rate he ain’t pretty enough 
for me to pine for his picture.” 

288 


BEAUTIFUL GRANADA 


The prince looked so mournful that Phil took 
pity upon him and bought his photograph, for 
which patronage he thanked her many times. 

“I should like to say ‘rich man, poor man, beg- 
gar man, thief’ up the buttons on his trousers legs,” 
remarked Gerry wistfully as the gypsy walked 
away. 

“I think you would find that it would stop at the 
last mentioned profession,” said Sir Reginald. 

“Now that we feel so fresh and rested let’s go 
down to the cathedral and see the tombs of Ferdi- 
nand and Isabella,” said Mrs. Honeythorn. 

“Grandma,” said Jack, after a whispered consul- 
tation with his sister, “can’t we stay here until you 
come back? We have seen so many tombs we know 
just what they look like, and it will be a great deal 
more fun to sit here and see the people go up and 
down the hill.” 

“Not if I know my own mind, you won’t! If I 
left you here you’'d get into something you oughtn’t 
to, just as sure as your name is Craile. You will go 
with the rest of us, and whether you care about the 
tombs or not now you’ll recollect ’em when you 
are older and be glad you saw ’em.” 

Ferdinand and Isabella, sovereigns once so pow- 
erful and so illustrious, now sleep in the cathedral 
at Granada within a stone’s throw of the spot that 
witnessed their magnificence and their triumph 
over a conquered nation. Their sepulchers are in 
the chapel and are of alabaster, but under them in 

289 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


the crypt below our party actually stood beside the 
coffins, simple leaden caskets, of the king and queen 
whose names are so intimately woven with the his- 
tory of our own country. 

Four hundred years have come and gone since 
the body of the good queen was brought in tem- 
pestuous weather and over almost impassable roads 
from Madrid to her beloved Granada, where for a 
time it reposed in the Alhambra, finally after the 
death of the king to be placed beside him in the 
cathedral. 

“I am glad we came. Grandma,” said Jack, “for 
I have studied about Ferdinand and Isabella in 
history and it seems so strange to stand beside their 
coffins.” 

Coming into the white, hot streets of the city they 
heard a boy crying “Agua” (water) and stopping 
him they had a refreshing drink from a jar in the 
pannier on his donkey’s back; it was ice-cold water 
from the Alhambra well. “We do such queer 
things in Granada,” observed Gerry thoughtfully. 

That night for dinner they had a delicious new 
dish, — green cucumbers stufifed and baked to a 
delicate brown. 

“It is an Andalusian dish, Senorita,” said the 
waiter, a merry fellow who, at the moment when 
Phil spoke to him, was patting his foot to keep time 
with the tinkle of a guitar outside, at the same time 
holding a large platter of meat out at arm’s length. 
“It was this province that discovered how best to 

290 


BEAUTIFUL GRANADA 


serve the cucumber,” he added with quite an air of 
importance. 

One of the happiest days they spent in Granada 
was that on which they visited the Generalife, the 
ancient pleasure garden of the Moorish kings. 
They drove up the road leading to these gardens, 
which is shaded by rows of cypress trees, and left 
the carriage at the gate where the driver was joined 
by the Generalife care-taker, who left the visitors 
to wander about by themselves. 

They paused on the stone balustrade for a view 
of the city below. The day was perfect and the air 
was so clear that it seemed as if they might almost 
reach out and touch the towers and turrets below, 
so near did they appear. The city gleamed white in 
the sunlight, and with its luxuriant foliage and 
winding river it was a scene never to be forgotten. 

Over the balustrade climbed a vine, bearing hun- 
dreds of white roses, and as they ascended terrace 
after terrace Phil exclaimed; “This surely is the 
garden of the Sleeping Beauty! The air is heavy 
with the odor of flowers. See those great crimson 
roses drooping their heavy heads with no one by to 
pluck them, and their fragrance might have been 
wafted through the gates of Paradise. And see 
those oranges, lying neglected on the ground, and 
the fountains that murmur as if half asleep.” 

When they rested near an arbor made of living 
trees Sir Reginald said, “One can almost imagine 
the silken tents of Ferdinand and Isabella down 


291 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


there below when they camped before Granada. It 
must have been a fine sight when the Spaniards 
took possession of the city. The Cardinal Mendoza 
coming first, then the king and queen riding their 
splendidly-caparisoned horses and followed by 
their magnificent courtiers, met by the Moorish 
king Abdallah, or Boabdil as he was called, who 
advanced to deliver the keys to Ferdinand. Then 
the large silver cross of the Christians was borne 
inside the walls, from the towers of the Alhambra 
the banner of Castile was flung to the breeze, the 
choir sang the Te Deum and the whole glittering 
assembly knelt in prayer.” 

“I must say. Sir Reginald,” said Mrs. Honey- 
thorn, “that I never heard anything better de- 
scribed.” 

“And well may you say it, Mrs. Honeythorn,” 
he replied, laughing. “When a boy I was very 
stupid in history and one day as a punishment I was 
made to study that particular event until it was 
fairly burned into my brain.” 

“I always felt sorry for that poor King Boabdil,” 
said she. “It seemed so mean of his mother to taunt 
him, as she did, when he had all he could stand 
anyhow. But some people are never happy unless 
they are sayin’ ‘I told you so.’ ” 

“What did she say, Sir Reginald?” asked Jack. 

“Do you mean the king’s mother? Turn your 
head toward that mountain, my boy; it was there 
that Boabdil paused to take a last look at Granada 

292 


BEAUTIFUL GRANADA 


and was so overcome with grief that he burst into 
tears. And his mother said, ‘You do well to weep 
like a woman for what you could not defend as a 
man.’ That point is still called ‘El Ultimo Sospiro 
del Moro/ the Last Sigh of the Moor.” 

“It is not a wonder that he wept in taking his last 
look at this beautiful spot,” said Phil. 

“I suppose he was just a colored man with a 
white turban on his head, like the Moors we saw in 
Tangier,” said Gerry. 

“Not at all,” replied Sir Reginald. “His por- 
trait is here, showing him to be handsome with a 
fair complexion and yellow hair. And he dressed 
with great splendor. The Moors of that day were 
educated people; they had books bound in ivory 
set with precious stones, and a nation which loves 
books is not ignorant.” 

“And in what year did all this happen, chil- 
dren?” asked Miss Fay. 

“In 1492,” replied Jack. 

“Right,” said Sir Reginald, “I see you have not 
neglected your history.” 

“Don’t praise him for what he don’t deserve,” 
said Mrs. Honeythorn. “According to the children 
everything happened in 1492 when it didn’t hap- 
pen in 1776. Seems as though they can’t get any 
other dates fixed in their minds.” 

“Yes, Grandma, we do know when Shakespeare 
was born,” said Gerry. 

They were now joined by the care-taker who, 
293 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


having finished her chat with the driver, thought 
it was about time she was receiving her fee for al- 
lowing the visitors to view the place. 

“Cuanto?’’ asked Gerry, pointing to a large red 
rose. 

“Hush!” said her grandmother, “you think 
everything you see is for sale.” 

The woman laughed and taking a pair of gar- 
den shears she cut a rose for each one of the party, 
refusing to be paid for them, though Sir Reginald 
made it up in the fee he gave her. 

“That word ‘cuanto’ is very useful,” said Gerry 
contentedly. “Everybody thinks I’m Spanish as 
soon as I use it, and they always do something nice 
for me.” 

Coming away from the garden they took a long 
ride, and when they returned to the hotel the moon 
was shining and the nightingales were pouring out 
their little hearts in song. 

“It has been the most beautiful day of my life,” 
said Phil. “Well may the people of this region say, 
‘He who has not seen Granada, has seen nothing.’ ” 


294 


CHAPTER XXIV 

A MYSTERY SOLVED 

It was necessary to rise at four o’clock in the 
morning in order to take the diligence for J aen, and 
Sir Reginald, who was up to bid them good-by, 
looked quite cast down at parting from them, 
though he was to see them later at Paris. 

There were six horses attached to the diligence 
and a boy astride one of the foremost ones. The 
Americans climbed to the top seats, the driver 
cracked his whip, the boy on the horse yelled and 
away they went over perfectly smooth roads and 
through picturesque mountain scenery. 

When Jack complained of thirst Gerry opened a 
bag of oranges and, giving him one of them, recited 
a verse that Phil had translated for her when they 
were in Seville : 

Take this orange from my grove 
With a knife do not divide it, 

Take it with my dearest love, 

For my heart is shut inside it. 

And Phil had told them of the superstition that 
obtains in some parts of Spain that an orange is 
poisonous if eaten after sunset. 

They stopped to change horses at an old inn 

295 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


where the driver informed them they could have a 
most excellent meal, but Mrs. Honeythorn said to 
Phil, “I don’t feel as if I could eat a bite that had 
been cooked in that kitchen. The floor is nothing 
but rough rocks and see how slovenly the cook is ! 
Let’s sit here under this palm tree and eat the lunch 
they fixed for us at the Washington Irving.” 

This suggestion was acted upon with alacrity and 
Phil said that a picnic under a palm tree in Spain 
was a novel and pleasant experience. 

They were not able to secure a sleeper at Jaen, 
but were fortunate in having a compartment all to 
themselves, and when they had turned down the 
light which hung from the ceiling (which, in its 
globe-shaped shade of yellow silk, looked, Gerry 
said, like a pumpkin), they rested very comfort- 
ably, only disturbed at the stations by the water- 
vender’s shrill cry of “Agua! agua!” 

The next morning they breakfasted at Valencia, 
and after a ride through the town continued on 
their way to Barcelona. 

“I never have done so much hard travelin’ in my 
life as I’ve done in Spain,” said Mrs. Honeythorn, 
“but if I hadn’t seen any place but Granada I 
would have felt paid for it. But did you ever see 
such a slipshod way of doin’ business as they have 
here? Sometimes the conductor forgets to take 
your ticket and then recollects it and runs after you 
after you get off. And the street-car conductors 
smoke when they are collectin’ the fares, and they 

296 


A MYSTERY SOLVED 


haven’t ambition enough to hold their cigars 
straight in their mouths, but just let ’em hang in 
one corner of their lips. And the men connected 
with the trains can’t tell you half the time where 
you can get a meal.” 

“The guard says there will be a fine supper at 
the next town,” said Phil. 

“Ask him, please, how long we stop there.” 

“He says two minutes,” she returned, laughing, 
after she had consulted him. 

“Now what did I tell you?” asked the old lady 
wrathfully. “What earthly good will it do us if 
they have a banquet fit for the king, if we have no 
time to eat it? Why don’t the train hurry up and 
get there and have a little time to spare instead of 
loiterin’ along like a boy on his way to school?” 

It was Saturday night when they arrived at Bar- 
celona and all were fatigued and anxious to rest. 
Driving to the hotel Los Cuatro Naciones they 
asked for a hot bath as soon as they reached their 
rooms, which caused great excitement in that hos- 
telry, — four persons, each wanting a bath, seemed 
to be an uncommon event. 

The following morning they walked down the 
Rambla, one of the prettiest streets in the world. 
As it was Sunday the walks next to the trees were 
lined with flowers arranged in every conceivable 
way and there were hundreds of birds in gilded 
cages. 

Barcelona is in Catalonia and the Catalonians 


297 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


are very proud of their province and of their hand- 
some city; they have a language of their own but 
they speak Castilian to strangers. 

There are a few Roman antiquities and a few an- 
cient churches. In the cathedral, which was built 
about nine hundred years ago, rest the remains of 
Saint Eulalia, on whose tomb may be read: “Here 
lies Eulalia of Barcelona, the rich jewel of that 
rich city.” It is believed that her soul was actually 
seen to ascend to Heaven in the form of a dove. 

But Barcelona, with its thriving manufactories 
and other industries, lives in the present rather than 
in the past and in some respects resembles an Amer- 
ican city. 

“I am glad,” said Gerry, “that the tombs of none 
of Grandma’s favorites are here.” 

“You are one of those travelers who don’t want 
to see things,” said her grandmother, who had 
overheard her. 

“Of course I want to see things. Grandma, but I 
had rather not look at any more tombs until I am 
old enough to enjoy them.” 

“You mustn’t talk like that. Nobody enjoys 
them.” 

“Then what makes people look at them. Grand- 
ma?” 

“Why, just to be instructed and to see where 
these great people are laid away. But just look at 
all these women usin’ fans, and it ain’t a warm day 
either!” she exclaimed with a sudden change of 

298 


A MYSTERY SOLVED 


subject. “Every woman that goes past is fannin’ 
herself as if for dear life. It must be a habit. Well, 
anyhow, I’ve a good deal of respect for this city 
and I believe it’s too civilized to have any bull- 
fights.” 

Jack giggled at this remark. “Look to your 
right. Grandma,” said he. She turned her head and 
beheld a group of toreadors in magnificent cos- 
tumes of blue velvet and gold. That afternoon all 
Barcelona seemed to be on its way to the bull-fight. 

The best theaters were closed at that season, but 
they went one night to a second-class place of 
amusement. 

Phil, who bought the tickets, said, “They asked 
me if I wanted to pay for the whole performance, 
or just one act. It appears that one may buy tickets 
for part of a play and see just so much of it and no 
more, so I paid for the first act and if we enjoy it I 
can get tickets for the remainder.” 

Never was there a more noisy audience. The 
play was a zarzuela, a kind of comic opera. The 
assemblage paid very little attention to it, laughing 
and chatting as if they were attending a reception 
instead of a play. 

“Just listen!” said Mrs. Honeythorn. “If that 
man ain’t a-yellin’ at somebody clear across the 
house, and the poor actors strainin’ their voices to 
be heard above all the racket! If the folks in this 
audience are so tickled to see each other, why don’t 
they meet in the park, or in some place where they 

299 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


can talk by the hour? What is the sense in buyin’ 
tickets just to listen to the sound of your own 
voice?” 

As they were leaving the theater, not caring to 
remain after the first act, Phil had the opportunity 
to render some assistance to two elderly English 
ladies who were vainly trying to make themselves 
understood by a cabman. These ladies, whose 
names were Miss Croxton and Miss Emily Crox- 
ton, were grateful to Miss Fay for extricating them 
from the clutches of a greedy driver, and as they 
were all stopping at the same hotel an acquaintance 
was soon formed between the English and the 
Americans. 

Miss Emily Croxton was an echo of her sister, 
of whose wisdom and judgment she seemed to 
stand in awe. 

“We liked the appearance of your party as soon 
as we noticed you in the theater,” said Miss Crox- 
ton confidentially to Mrs. Honeythorn. 

“Yes, indeed,” said Miss Emily. 

“And those dear children, both of them so hand- 
some, and that very lovely young girl !” 

“A very lovely young girl!” echoed Miss Emily. 

“She is the governess, I presume?” asked Miss 
Croxton. 

“No, I wish she was; she writes novels for a liv- 
in’,” replied Mrs. Honeythorn. 

“Oh, indeed, how interesting!” 

“Most interesting!” said Miss Emily. 

300 


A MYSTERY SOLVED 


“As I was saying,” went on Miss Croxton, “we 
liked your appearance, but we have no reason to 
admire the people of your country, for since we 
started on this trip we have been robbed by an 
American.” 

“Robbed !” echoed Miss Emily, 

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I expect there’s many 
a man in England that a body wouldn’t select to be 
the superintendent of a Sunday-school,” replied 
Mrs. Honeythorn calmly. 

“What made it worse,” said Miss Croxton, “was 
that he passed himself off for a minister.” 

“Yes, that made it worse,” said Miss Emily. 

“I don’t see why that made it worse,” observed 
Mrs. Honeythorn. “As long as he robbed you, I 
don’t see why you need care whether he passed 
himself off as a preacher or a hyena. What you 
needed to do was to keep your pocketbook where 
he couldn’t get hold of it,” 

“Oh, it was not money that he took! Money is 
mere dross and always can be replaced.” 

“Always,” said Miss Emily. 

“Well, I’m not so sure about that, but what did 
he take?” 

“He secured a number of heirlooms that had 
been in our family for hundreds of years. My niece 
Irma, who is at present confined to her room with 
a terrible cold, confided them to his care and has 
not heard of him or the jewels since.” 

“Dear sister,” implored Miss Emily, “do not dis- 
301 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


cuss that painful subject further at present. You 
know it makes you nervous and it will completely 
spoil your afternoon nap.” 

This warning prevented Mrs. Honeythorn from 
relating their own experience with a casket of jew- 
els and from asking if it were a peculiarity of Eng- 
lish women to hand over their jewels to any person 
they happen to meet. 



They were surprised to find Mr. Winchip 


A long drive in the afternoon made our Amer- 
icans late for dinner and when they entered the 
reading-room, as was their habit, to see if Phil 
could find anything in the foreign newspapers 
about America, they were surprised to find Mr. 
, Winchip seated under the chandelier, turning over 
the leaves of a French magazine. 

“Here you are at last!” said he, cordially shaking 
hands. “I expected to see you at Seville, but I ar- 

302 


A MYSTERY SOLVED 


rived there too late and only heard of you at the 
other places after your departure.” 

As they were chatting happily and comparing 
notes of their travels the Misses Croxton entered 
the room, accompanied by their niece, who now 
appeared for the first time since their arrival in 
Barcelona. 

Mrs. Honey thorn, who was sitting facing the 
door, gave an exclamation of surprise, for the 
youngest Miss Croxton was no other than the 
young woman who had confided ' the jewels to 
Jack’s care in Cordova. She was about to mention 
the incident when the black-eyed young woman ex- 
claimed; “ ’Tis he!” and advanced toward Mr. 
Winchip with the question, uttered in a tragic 
voice : 

“Sir, be good enough to tell me what you have 
done with the jewels I” 

Before the dismayed clergyman had time to re- 
ply, her aunt said soothingly: “My dear, there is 
some mistake. This gentleman is evidently a friend 
of Mrs. Honeythorn’s, and of course is not the 
same.” 

“I tell you he is the same!” cried the black-eyed 
girl. “And so are the others the same and I defy 
them to deny it!” 

Then everybody began to talk at once, without 
paying the slightest attention to what was being 
said by anybody else. 

The youngest Miss Croxton touched the bell and 
303 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


informed the waiter who answered it that Mr. 
Winchip was a villain of the first magnitude, who 
instantly must be conveyed to prison. As her 
Spanish was difficult to understand and the waiter 
unusually stupid, he stood with his mouth open, 
trying to get it through his head whether some one 
needed a doctor or wanted a hotel bill corrected. 

“And now,” said Mrs. Honeythorn, raising her 
voice above the general din, “let everybody sit 
down and be quiet till I explain our part of this 
business, and then I guess there’ll have to be some 
pretty lively explainin’ by the other side.” 

When quiet was restored she continued : “There 
is no use in your lookin’ at this gentleman in that 
fiery way, as if you’d like to eat him up, for he is a 
minister and is not likely to carry off anything that 
don’t belong to him.” Then remembering En- 
gracia she added truthfully: “Except a baby that 
he accidentally took from a town in the north of 
this country.” 

“A baby! This is horrible!” exclaimed Miss 
Croxton. 

“A baby!” groaned Miss Emily. 

“Didn’t I tell you it was an accident?” asked 
Grandma, vexed with herself because she had 
brought the baby into the story. 

“My dear Mrs. Honeythorn,” said Mr. Win- 
chip, “why speak of matters that have no bearing 
upon the subject under discussion?” 

“Why, indeed?” asked Miss Irma. “Let the 
304 


A MYSTERY SOLVED 


proper persons hold him to account for kidnap- 
ping.” 

“Then to come right straight to the point,” went 
on Mrs. Honeythorn, “Mr. Winchip never even 
saw that box of jewelry. I was the last one to han- 
dle it and I just dare anybody to say that I’d touch 
a thing that didn’t belong to me.” 

“Then where are the jewels? Produce them! 
Produce them!” cried the eldest Miss Croxton, 
rapping excitedly on the table beside her. 

“Yes,” echoed Miss Emily, “produce them!” 

“Now, don’t get excited and scream like that! I 
can’t produce ’em now, for they’re down in Seville 
in the care of the British consul.” 

“A very likely story!” sneered Miss Irma. 

“You don’t believe me? Then there’s no use in 
my makin’ any more remarks in this company. 
Come, children, let’s go up stairs.” 

“No, no,” cried Miss Croxton. “I am inclined to 
believe your statement, Mrs. Honeythorn. Please 
go on and tell us what you know of the jewels.” 

“Very well. One night at our hotel in Cordova, 
as my grandson was walkin’ peacefully along the 
hall, he was waylaid by your niece, who jammed 
that box into his hand and then popped into her 
room and slammed the door and locked it. Now 
ain’t that so?” she asked, nailing Miss Irma with a 
steady glance. 

“Yes, but—” 

“Just wait till I get through, will you, and then 
30s 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


you can say whatever you like. The next morning 
we found that your niece had gone and Mr. Win- 
chip got a letter from her, askin’ him to send the 
box to Miss Maria Custar at the Hotel Madrid in 
Seville. As we intended to go straight there and he 
didn’t, he thought we’d best take it, and we did; 
but not a single Maria Custar ever called for that 
box, though we asked about her every day at the 
office of the hotel.” 

“But — ” began Miss Irma. 

“Just wait, if you please, till I am through, and 
then you can talk as long as you want to.” Mrs. 
Honeythorn took a piece of paper from her purse 
and handed it to Miss Croxton. “That is the re- 
ceipt for the box that the British consul handed to 
me, with a list of the things in it. And now you can 
send to him for it. And as to what you meant,” she 
continued, again fixing Miss Irma with her eye, 
“by makin’ us take the box, givin’ us all that trouble 
and windin’ up by callin’ us thieves mebby you 
know, for I don’t.” 

“Oh, Irma,” said Miss Croxton, “you told me 
you had given the jewels to some one you thought 
was a minister.” 

“Nobody ever thought Jack looked like a minis- 
ter,” remarked Gerry, who had been aching to take 
part in the controversy, but who was now instantly 
suppressed by her grandmother. 

“Please explain this, Irma,” said her aunt firmly. 

“I thought they were all of one family,” said 

306 


A MYSTERY SOLVED 


Irma sulkily, “and that the boy was the minister’s 
son. But I did not write that they should send it to 
Maria Custar. That is absurd!” 

“I have the note somewhere about me, I think,” 
said Mr. Winchip. “Yes, here it is,” he continued, 
after looking through a number of letters, and he 
handed it to Miss Croxton. 

“It is your wretched hand, Irma,” sighed Miss 
Croxton. “It does look as if it might be Maria 
Custar, instead of Irma Croxton. And now, my 
dear Mrs. Honeythorn, I want to express my 
thanks for the trouble all this has caused you and 
also my regrets for anything we have said to you 
to-night. Pray accept our sincere apologies.” 

“Our sincere apologies,” said Miss Emily. 

“I accept your apologies,” said Mrs. Honey- 
thorn, “but at the same time I think I ought to 
know why your niece dragged us into this busi- 
ness.” 

“Certainly, Irma, explain if you please.” 

“I will go back to the beginning,” said that 
young lady with a flash of her keen black eyes at 
her aunt. “Just as we were about to take the train 
at Madrid my aunts ran across an old friend, with 
whom they wanted to talk secrets — ^which don’t 
amount to a row of pins, for I know what they are 
— and they asked me to get into another compart- 
ment. 

“It was just as they used to send me from the 
room when somebody called when I was a child, 
307 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


and I was provoked and walked off without a word. 
But when we arrived at Cordova I found that 
they had missed the train and I went to the hotel 
alone. My room was dark and gloomy, and it was 
number thirteen. The waiter who answered my 
bell looked like a villain, which made me still 
more uncomfortable, for the satchel containing the 
jewels was in my care. I took the casket out and 
was putting it under my pillow, when, glancing 
up, I saw the waiter standing in the doorway. I 
had rung for him, and he had pushed open the 
door without knocking. I was nervous, anyway, 
and I was afraid that, knowing I had something of 
value, he would kill me in the night. I had seen 
this boy pass with some letters to mail and I kept 
the man on some excuse or other until your grand- 
son returned, then I said in Spanish, ‘Give this box 
to your father, who has a revolver to protect it. I 
will keep no valuables with me.’ Then I locked 
my door and felt safe.” 

“And not carin’ whether anybody else was safe 
or not,” interrupted Mrs. Honeythorn dryly. 

“I expected to get the jewels the next morning,” 
went on Irma, “but I had a telegram from my 
aunt, telling me to meet them on the six o’clock 
train, as they had concluded to go straight on to 
Seville. So, as there was not time to rouse you and 
get the box, I left a note for the gentleman, telling 
him where to send it. 

“My aunts had accepted an invitation to stop 

308 


A MYSTERY SOLVED 


with their friend in Seville, but every day a mes- 
senger was sent to the hotel to inquire about the 
jewels, and hearing nothing of them we sup- 
posed — ” 

“You s’posed,” said Mrs. Honeythorn as she hesi- 
tated, “that Mr. Winchip had kept the box. Now 



if you’ll excuse me, I never heard of a more fool- 
ish performance! Why, under the canopy, didn’t 
you leave the box in the hotel office that night?” 

“I didn’t think of it.” 

“My niece is very nervous, and she had never 
traveled alone,” said Miss Croxton apologetically. 
“Again I say that I hope you and this gentleman 
will pardon us for this unfortunate affair.” 

Miss Croxton telegraphed that night and found 
309 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


that the jewels were safe at the house of the British 
consul. 

“Oh, what if that misguided girl had given them 
to a dishonest person?” she wailed. “I do not mind 
confiding to you, my dear Mrs. Honeythorn, that 
my niece is peculiar.” 

“Very peculiar,” agreed Miss Emily. 

“And that was no news to me,” remarked Grand- 
ma to Jack. “And she ain’t the only one in that 
family that is. If somebody would repeat every 
word after me as soon as I’d said it, as that sister 
does, I’d fix it so’s there never would be less than 
a mile between us.” 


310 


CHAPTER XXV 


A HAPPY ENDING 

A letter was received from Miss Craile saying 
she had arrived in Paris, where she had engaged 
very pleasant apartments, and that while she did 
not wish to terminate their travels too speedily, 
she would be glad to have the children join her as 
soon as possible. 

The same mail brought a letter, forwarded by 
her banker to Mrs. Honeythorn, containing news 
which she felt would necessitate her departure for 
America by the end of the following month. 

So the tour of Italy and Switzerland was given 
up by the whole party, for Phil said that her plans 
also suddenly had been changed and that she would 
accompany Mrs. Honeythorn and the children to 
Paris. 

Mr. Winchip, who was traveling northward, 
joined them and expressed his willingness to lift 
from their shoulders the cares and anxieties of 
travel, though his first efforts in that direction were 
not crowned with success, as you will see. 

It was night and they were speeding through the 
south of France. The tickets were marked to be 
vtseed — or examined — at Cette, a town they were 
to reach about Pvo o’clock in the morning; Mr. 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


Winchip took possession of all the tickets, saying 
that as he spoke French he could manage the mat- 
ter without difficulty. 

With her head resting against a rug rolled up in 
the shape of a pillow, Phil had enjoyed a nap, and 
when she wakened she found that the train had 
stopped. “What place is this?” she asked. 

Mrs. Honeythorn replied, “It is Cette, and Mr. 
Winchip got out with the tickets.” 

“Are you sure that it is Cette?” 

“Well, he thought it was. Between you and me 
I b’lieve there’s something wrong with his French. 
He don’t seem to get the right twist to it somehow, 
and I noticed that a man he spoke to when he got 
off looked a little wild. Seems to me French is a 
ticklish language to use unless you know it pretty 
well.” 

“Mr. Winchip’s accent certainly is frightful,” 
said Phil. “I am afraid he is having some trouble, 
and I am sorry I did not attend to the matter my- 
self as I have done all along.” 

Opening a window she asked a man on the plat- 
form — in French, of course — the name of the town. 
Hearing his reply, she exclaimed, “Oh, Mrs. 
Honeythorn, this is not Cette — it is Narbonne!” 

The children woke and asked what was the mat- 
ter. 

“Nothing,” returned their grandmother, “ex- 
cept Mr. Winchip thinks he’s in a different place 
from what he really is. I don’t see that it makes 
312 


A HAPPY ENDING 


much difference. He’ll find out his mistake and 
come back.” 

“But don’t you see?” cried Phil. “He told me 
we should be nearly an hour in Cette, and he will 
take his time to go with the tickets to the office, 
which often is some distance from the track, and 
in the meantime the train may pull out!” 

As if to verify her words the train began to 
move. 

“Oh, it’s going now 1” said Gerry. 

“Only backward,” said Jack. 

“But it’s doing that to get a good start, — they 
often do.” 

“And he is in this town somewhere with all our 
tickets, and these railway officials arc so difficult 
to manage,” moaned Phil. “What shall we do 
when we really get to Cette and have no tickets to 
present?” 

“Seems to me he’s made a considerable of a botch 
of this business,” said Mrs. Honeythorn calmly. 
“ ‘Be sure you are right and then go ahead,’ is a 
good motto for anybody to follow, but he plunges 
right ahead and finds out what he wants to know 
afterward.” 

The train was now acting in a very irritating 
manner, gliding back and forth as if to frighten 
them, pulling ahead for some distance as if really 
on its way, then reconsidering the matter and back- 
ing even beyond its original stopping-place. 

“When we do get to Cette we’ll probably be ar- 
313 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


rested for tryin’ to cheat the railroad company,” 
observed Mrs. Honeythorn. “We just seem to have 
a gift for gettin’ into scrapes.” 

“I wonder if they will take us to Paris and put 
us in that dreadful prison where they put Queen 
Marie Antoinette?” whispered Gerry to Jack. 
Then, without waiting for him to reply, she said 
aloud, “Grandma!” 

“Well?” 

“Will they take us to Paris and put us where 
they kept Queen Marie Antoinette?” 

“No, no, they don’t use that place for a prison 
now. And don’t worry, we’ll get out of this some- 
how, we always do.” she continued, patting Gerry’s 
hand. 

At this moment Mr. Winchip appeared at the 
window, accompanied by two angry, boiling, splut- 
tering French officials. 

“These men say we must pay two hundred 
francs,” said the clergyman helplessly. 

“I hope they’ll live till they get my share of it,” 
replied Mrs. Honeythorn. “We paid all that was 
asked for the tickets and we’ll pay no more now — 
not another cent.” 

“What is the trouble?” asked Phil in French. 

“The trouble is. Mademoiselle,” replied one of 
the officials, “that your party has traveled all the 
way from Barcelona without paying a sou.” 

“That is nonsense,” she replied, and their tickets 
from Barcelona to Cette were produced. All the 


A HAPPY ENDING 


contempt with which a sentence could possibly be 
saturated was put into the tones of the official, who 
said to his companion, “They had the other tickets 
all the time!” 

Then holding open the carriage door, he said to 
Mr. Winchip, “Montez, monsieur! (Get in, sir.”) 

“But” — said he, hesitating. 

’‘‘‘Montez!” thundered the official, and Mr. Win- 
chip obeyed. The door was banged behind him 
and the train now moved off in earnest. 

“This whole affair has been a mystery to me,” 
said Mr. Winchip. “I handed them the tickets 
from Cette and they kept asking for more. I told 
them that we had paid, but they did not seem to 
understand me at all. Then they brought me to the 
train as if I had been a criminal caught in a felo- 
nious act!” 

“The trouble with you was that you got off at the 
wrong town,” said Mrs. Honeythorn. 

“Impossible! I asked the man on the platform 
and he said, ''Oui, monsieur/ There is no mistak- 
ing that reply for anything but ‘Yes, sir.’ ” 

“I guess his end of it was all right, but I don’t 
think you asked him what you thought you did. 
But what I don’t understand about the whole thing 
is this : if you had been tryin’ to cheat the company, 
as they thought, why in this world would you have 
looked ’em up at this hour of the night and called 
their attention to what you were doin’? It would 
be like sayin’, ‘We are stealin’ a ride clear through 
315 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


from Spain, and I just thought I’d get out and 
mention it’ Why didn’t they think of the foolish- 
ness of it?” 

Phil said nothing, but when they really arrived 
at Cette she accompanied Mr. Winchip to the 
ticket office, and there was no more trouble. 



Miss Craile received the travelers in her luxu- 
rious apartments, where, with a number of trained 
servants, the wheels of her domestic affairs were 
running as smoothly as if she had been keeping 
house there for years. She was a tall, handsome 
lady, fond of pretty gowns and flashing jewels, and 
she kissed her nephew and niece on the forehead, 
remarking that Geraldine was a perfect Craile, 
316 


A HAPPY ENDING 


while Jack, in her opinion, resembled his mother’s 
family. 

“I see that they have had the best of care, my 
dear Mrs. Honeythorn,” she said, “and I never can 
show my gratitude to you for taking the responsi- 
bility off my shoulders for so long a time.” 

“Grateful to me for what I’ve done for these 
children?” asked Grandma. “Why, Jacky and 
Gerry are as dear to me as my very eyes and it is 
breakin’ my heart to go home without ’em!” 

Miss Craile was very favorably impressed by 
Miss Fay, whose book she had read. “She is a 
beautiful girl,” said she, “and so sweet-mannered. 
I should like to engage her as governess for the 
children.” 

“There’s something that stands in the way of that 
arrangement,” said Grandma, “but that is her se- 
cret and not mine.” 

“Do you know,” said Gerry when she was alone 
with her brother, “that although Aunt Eleanor 
never really scolded us in her life, and she is always 
so pretty and so well dressed, I could never, never 
love her as I do dear old Grandma.” 

“Nor I,” said Jack. “With Aunt Eleanor it 
seems as if she were behind a closed door and we 
were talking to her from the outside, while with 
Grandma the door is always open. Won’t it be 
just dismal when Grandma goes away?” Some- 
thing queer happened to Jack’s throat at that mo- 
ment and he ceased suddenly to talk, while Gerry 
317 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


wiped her eyes, not ashamed to show that she was 
crying. 

But one morning Grandma received a letter 
which contained very good news. 

“Johnson says he wants to rent the farm for a 
year,” said she. “He spells rent with a ‘W,’ think- 
in’ probably of how ‘wren’ is spelled. But I don’t 
care how he spells it, he will take the care of the 
place off my hands and pay me a pretty good sum 
besides.” 

“Oh, Grandma!” cried Jack, “you can stay in 
Europe for a year, can’t you?” 

“I expect I can. There are several places over 
here I want to see, and there will be nothing to 
take me home.” 

“That is perfectly lovely and we can still keep 
you with us, dear honey Grandma,” said Gerry, 
throwing her arms around her grandmother’s neck. 

“That is good news, indeed,” said Miss Craile. 
“I was beginning to worry about the children, for 
I never could remember, as you do, when they 
ought to put on their flannels and what to do for 
Geraldine when she is threatened with croup.” 

Phil embraced the old lady with tears of joy in 
her eyes. “It wouldn’t have been perfect without 
you,” said she. 

“Grandma, what did Phil mean when she said 
that something would not have been perfect with- 
out you?” asked Gerry when the two children were 
alone with their grandmother. 

318 


A HAPPY ENDING 


“I’ve been intendin’ to tell you. Phil is goin’ to 
be married, and before Johnson rented the farm 
I didn’t feel that I could stay till after the weddin’, 
and she is foolish enough to be glad that I’ll be 
here, after all.” 

“Phil going to be married !” exclaimed J ack. “Is 
she going to marry Mr. Winchip?” 

“He’s going to marry her, but she won’t marry 
him,” replied their grandmother, laughing. “That 
is, he will perform the ceremony. Mr. Winchip is, 
I think, a confirmed old bachelor, and being be- 
tween forty-five and fifty, he is a little old for Phil. 
She is goin’ to be Lady Carew.” 

“Oh, isn’t that fine?” cried Gerry. “Sir Regi- 
nald is so nice, and the best part of it is she will be 
Lady Castlemere’s sister.” 

“That’s just what she will be. Now I’ll tell you 
what I think you children had better do. Phil has 
been very kind to all of us and she taught us all a 
good deal on our travels, and so after talkin’ it all 
over with your aunt we’ve concluded that you chil- 
dren had better give her the weddin’ dress and 
veil.” 

This proposal was joyously received by the chil- 
dren, and Gerry asked, “What are you going to 
wear to the wedding. Grandma?” 

“My best black silk that Nancy Cluppins put in 
her best licks on. It’s a little bit shabby now, to be 
sure, for I’ve paraded in it a good deal lately, but 
nobody at the weddin’ will notice me.” 

319 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 

After a whispered conversation the children 
went off to interview their aunt. “Oh, Aunt 
Eleanor,” said Gerry, “before we left home I heard 
Grandma say one day that she wished she had a 
black velvet dress. Can’t Jack and I give her one 
to wear to Phil’s wedding?” 

“A black velvet gown made as it should be is no 
trifle,” replied their aunt seriously. 

“Then let us go without something and use the 
money for Grandma’s dress. Aunt Eleanor. Jack 
and I need not get new things for the wedding, and 
we shall not mind it as long as Grandma looks 
nice.” 

“I am glad to see you manifest that spirit of self- 
denial, Geraldine. Yes, I think you may give the 
gown to your grandmother, and I shall see that it is 
well made and suitably trimmed.” 

And now sight-seeing was given up for the time 
and shopping took the place of it, for everything 
else must make way for a wedding. At the Grand 
Magazin du Louvre the children bought white 
silks and laces for Phil and black velvet for their 
grandmother. This new occupation was so fascinat- 
ing that Gerry remarked that it was much pleas- 
anter to buy things for other people than for one’s 
self. 

Phil was married on a clear, bright day in Octo- 
ber. Lord and Lady Castlemere came to the wed- 
ding, accompanied by the invalid brother, who 
now was able to travel, and by Emilio, who was so 

320 


A HAPPY ENDING 


happy to see the “gracious senora” again that he 
kissed Grandma’s hand adoringly. 

A goodly company witnessed the wedding, 
which took place in an English church, for a large 
number of Sir Reginald’s friends came over from 
England to see him married, and he had many ac- 
quaintances in Paris. Gerry, arrayed in pink, with 
a big hat, played a prominent part in the wedding, 
acting as flower girl, — and a very pretty one she 
was! 

That night after the newly-wedded couple had 
left for their English home the children were talk- 
ing over the great event with their grandmother. 

“I don’t think the United States would have had 
any reason to be ashamed of the people who came 
from there,” said Gerry. “Everybody said that 
Phil was just beautiful; Aunt Eleanor is always 
handsome, and Grandma, you looked a great deal 
prettier than Lord Castlemere’s mother, whose 
dress wasn’t half as pretty as yours.” 

“Mebby she hasn’t a couple of sweet grandchil- 
dren to pick out a dress for her,” replied their 
grandmother. 

“Phil told me this morning,” said Jack, “that it 
is all owing to us that she is married. She said if 
she hadn’t been with us she never would have be- 
come acquainted with Sir Reginald.” 

“And we’ve made some other changes by our 
trip,” remarked Grandma. “Mr. Winchip told me 
he’d had another letter from that Spanish priest 

321 


YOUNG PEOPLE IN OLD PLACES 


about Engracia’s family, and her father is doin’ 
well with the bakery he’s bought, for the priest put 
that hundred dollars into that business, as it will 
help the whole family and give the baby a comfort- 
able home to grow up in.” 

“And think of Emilio,” said Gerry, “what he 
was when we found him and where he is now!” 

“You are lucky to have the chance and the means 
to help others,” said their grandmother. “I once 
knew a man who always planted a tree wherever 
he lived, even if he never expected to see it grow 
up, for he said it would furnish fruit for some- 
body. And while it ain’t best to praise ourselves 
for what we do, rememberin’ that we’re only weak 
mortals, it is a comfort to feel that we’ve left behind 
us fruit for somebody else to enjoy.” 


THE END 





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